125th Hunger Games: You're the Tributes
by Adrenaline Write
Summary: With the Quarter Quell rolling around to add to the brutality and terror that is the Hunger Games, the stakes are even higher.CLOSED.
1. Tribute Form

**Hi guys! I know there are a lot of these already but I wanted to make one because it seemed so damn fun! Okay, so I would love it if you could send in two characters, one that would be less likely to win the games and one that is more likely to, because I feel that most of these stories have tributes who can ALL kick ass and are ALL absolutely beautiful. Have fun getting creative with your characters and MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR! :)**

Name:

Age:

Gender:

District:

Personality:

Appearance:

Job/Profession(If character has one):

Family:

Friends:

Relationships( maybe one during the games?):

Angle for Interview:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Token:

OPTIONAL:

Reaping Outfit:

Chariot Outfit:

Interview Outfit:

**Thanks so much for checking this out! I can't wait to see what you guys come up with!**


	2. First Draft Tribute List

**Okay guys! Thanks so much for reviewing with your characters! I appreciate it greatly. This is only a first draft of the tribute list, so it is subject to change. The two tributes where I put "can be placed in different district if necessary" just means the user allowed for the character to be in any district, so you can still send in tributes for that spot on the list. Keep it coming, 13 more spots left!**

District 1

Male:

Female: Sage Evans

District 2

Male:

Female: Cassidy Charme

District 3

Male:

Female: Euca Trinmon ( can be placed in different district if necessary)

District 4

Male:

Female:

District 5

Male: Kael Storlie

Female: Bailey Gizer

District 6

Male: Carter Rollings

Female: Aver Genie ( can be placed in different district if necessary)

District 7

Male:

Female: Sofiel Adrayscaus

District 8

Male:

Female:

District 9

Male:

Female:

District 10

Male: Sile Grenwich

Female: Angelica Hust

District 11

Male:

Female: Margo Grey

District 12

Male:

Female:

**Can't wait to get this story started, so send in those tributes! :)**


	3. Second Draft Tribute List

District 1

Male:

Female: Sage Evans

District 2

Male:

Female: Cassidy Charme

District 3

Male: Male Infantry Droid Model

Female: Euca Trinmon ( can be placed in different district if necessary)

District 4

Male: Rat-Trap Moores

Female: Alaia Hemlock

District 5

Male: Kael Storlie

Female: Bailey Gizer

District 6

Male: Carter Rollings

Female: Aver Genie ( can be placed in different district if necessary)

District 7

Male: Slate Blackwood

Female: Sofiel Adrayscaus

District 8

Male: Hexavire Lucas( I had to place you in this District, please tell me if you wish to be in another blank one)

Female: Zina Reedmore

District 9

Male: Gerisho Pan

Female: Pup Tanner

District 10

Male: Sile Grenwich

Female: Angelica Hust

District 11

Male:

Female: Margo Grey

District 12

Male:

Female: Kira Pawson(I'm sorry I had to put your character in this District, 9 was taken)

**Hi guys! Sorry I didn't update this sooner, I've been really, really busy! So thanks for sticking with me! I just need a few more male tributes and we can get this thing started. Oh, and I just released a Hunger Games oneshot called Regret and it would be so amazing if you could read and review it! Bye! ****J**


	4. District 1 Reaping

**Okay! Here it is guys! The first chapter of the story. It explains what the Quarter Quell rule is, which was an idea I had in my head for a while now. Please tell me what you think and if I'm writing characters wrong! I still need a male District 2 tribute so it would be awesome if one of you could make one quickly. Thanks!**

(Sage Evans D1)

I blink the sleep from my eyes and pull my sapphire blue silk robe tighter onto my body as I review the TV recording once again.

President Ayres, a tall, lanky man with short cut black hair, pale skin, and dark, cruel eyes walks to the center of a light wood podium and begins to speak.

"As a reminder that the Capitol has more than just weapons to fight a rebellion, three Gamemakers offices will be placed inside the arena for tributes to find and use against another."

Citizens of the Capitol clap and whistle as they hear the Quarter Quell news, overjoyed by such an announcement.

"Happy 125th Hunger Games!" a Capitol woman in an indigo sequin dress with skin dyed a light violet screeches in her chipmunk voice.

Flicking off the television, I retrace everything the simply revolting President Ayres spoke of. With hidden Gamemakers offices, I could have an easier time killing tributes. Well, only one as are the regulations. If I'm in the Games, which wouldn't exactly be absolutely horrid. I have chances.

Taking a quick glance at the clock, I realise how little time I have to get ready for the reaping. Racing into my glistening bathroom, I spend half an hour applying all different kinds of eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, and perfume. Hanging on the side of the bathroom door is a strapless blue dress that I pair with gold heels, sapphire earrings, and a golden pin with the seal of Panem on it. Looking in the mirror, I know I'll impress the sponsors if I'm chosen. Let's hope I'm not.

When I reach the town square, which is full of a variety of shops from Capitol-like clothing( shops like these are where my mother is a regular customer ) to my father's blacksmith shop. Both my parents had probably made their way to the crowd by the reaping stage an hour ago. Making my way to the sixteen's, I spot my friend Aria Grant. She looks nice today with her blond hair tied back in a pink ribbon and a short silver halter dress. As good as she make look, I know I look better.

"Sage!" she pipes up, and gives me a hug. I return it.

"Hey, Aria! Nervous?" I smile.

"Not a chance."

We giggle for a while about girly things I've long since been accustomed to talking about, and finally Mayor Vale, a red haired man with a stern emerald glance begins his painstakingly long speech. I tweak my hair and dress as he speaks, and steal looks around the crowd to see who might be a tribute this year.

When the speech is finally over, a woman named Eris with skin the same raspberry pink as my mother tried to dye herself last year takes the stage, eyes bright and excited. She goes on about the great history District 1 has in the Games, and she claps and jumps in her five inch heels, almost loosing her balance. I stifle a laugh, and see many others doing the same. Eris walks over to the girls' glass ball, and digs for a while until she pulls out a name.

"Sage Evans!"

To my utter surprise, I do not feel fear or anxiety, but confidence. I stride through the line of sixteen's, smiling and flipping my hair. I shake hands with the strange woman, and look out into the audience. I can't find my parents, lost in the sheer ocean that is the crowd. The way they all clap for me, I know I'll be a favourite.

Eris then pulls from the boy's bowl, shrieking, "Faul Verlong!"

A lanky boy with brown hair and green eyes comes up to the stage. I've seen him around school before, and as confident as he may look coming up here, I know he's probably an airhead. I'll be able to use him to my advantage easily. A little flirting and he'll be done for. We exchange glances, and are then ushered into the Justice Building.

I am seated in a brown suede armchair when my parents come into the room, I give them both a smile.

"I'm going to win." I state.

"That's all we needed to hear." my father nods, and my mother, who's skin is a bright yellow, smiles, making her look like the sun. They leave quickly.

The boy beside me refuses visitors, and I know he's doing it to impress me.

(Faul Verlong D1)

When my name is called, I'm pretty sure my ego boosted even more. I'm up on the stage in a matter of seconds, right beside the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. I never talked to her before, but now is my chance.

Arriving at the Justice Building, I sit with Sage in silence and I refuse visitors. She'll be impressed. Guarantee. When her parents arrive, they have a quick exchange and I know now I can speak to her.

I flash a dazzling smile at her, and she just turns to look at me fully.

"Allies?" I ask her. She won't be able to resist me.

"We'll see." she says, flirtatiously flipping her hair and turning to look at a painting on the wall.

I can see Sage and I together now, killing off tributes without so much as breaking a sweat.


	5. District 2 Reaping

(Cassidy Charme D2)

Today is my day.

As I walk through the nicely paved street approaching the town square, my short yellow dress swishing along my thighs, I can almost smell the arena air, encasing me in my fantasy. The town square practically swimming with people, a good ninety percent of them filthy rich. I am certainly no exception, with my family known for it's victors and former dead tributes of the Hunger Games.

In my family, we are no strangers to training for the Games. I can't remember how many months old I was when I first picked up a bow.

Finding my way to the crowd of seventeen's, I try my best to stay away from any people I know, so that I can volunteer in peace and not listen to the pointless jabber of 'who's dress looks the greatest'. I need every waking moment I have to strategize, because as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not smart. Just manipulative.

At least I have more of a chance than the Ones. They will have sponsors, but behind that confidence they are presenting, they don't look able to do much.

I spend the next ten waiting minutes deciding how to act when I volunteer. Intimidating? As much as it mirrors my personality, it's too typical Career. Intelligent and Shy? No and no. Flirty and Charming? My name is fucking Cassidy Charme, for God's sake. It fits perfectly. Why didn't I think of this before? I could pull it off, as I am no stranger to acting in such a way, even if it is far from my real personality.

Mayor Pine, a young woman with auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun makes her way onto the stage, heels clacking against the sleek black floor.

She clears her throat and begins her speech clearly and enthusiastically. "When Panem first rose from the ashes…"

I want to go rip the microphone from her blazer and scream that we all don't give a shit. But I can't if I don't want a bullet to my head, so I just stare at my yellow four inch heels with anticipation. _This is my day, _I repeat to myself for the twelfth time.

I almost feel myself closing my eyes when a newer, more shrill voice rings in my ears. The District Two escort, Aristo, takes the stage. This year he is dressed in a shimmering green and blue tux, with the seal of Panem tattooed around his eyes and on his forehead.

As always, his speech is full of cheerful pep talks, fists pumping in the air, and high fives. When he is done being an absolute freak, Aristo bounces over to girls' reaping bowl.

Ruffling through the bowl, he finally grabs a slip of paper.

"Cala-"

"I volunteer for tribute!" I shriek, allowing this one time to appear frightening before striding up on the stage smiling and giggling, like that Sage girl. Ugh.

From the stage, I can see every expression on every face. Some are furious. A girl a year older than me, Stella Zane, who's only chance to volunteer for the games was this year, has had her time snatched from her. It almost makes me smirk.

I shake hands with Aristo as gently as possible, as his flesh is so saggy and delicate compared to mine. He smiles, and then walks to the boy's bowl. He digs around for a while, then picks a name.

"I volunteer!" Aristo doesn't even have time to say the name of the chosen tribute before Berrin Mercer, an eighteen, is walking to the stage, his muscled figure towering over the escort and I. He doesn't scare me, although I'm positive he'll scare a good half of most tributes.

When Berrin and I reach the Justice Building, we are seated in posh black leather matching loveseats. We both refuse visitors. I said my goodbyes( hardly goodbyes, as I will certainly be back) before I left for the square.

We sit in silence, both with racing thoughts to fill the awkwardness that would be present if we weren't both busy strategizing. A piece of gold catches my eye, and I can barely see a golden ring on Berrin's finger, which reads, 'We will be victorious.'

We'll see about that Berrin, we'll see.

(Berrin Mercer D2)

I make the walk to the town square with my father, Calix. We review everything from my interview angle to my token, and I know I should still be listening intently. My father is a former Hunger Games winner, after all. But the information has been hard-set into my brain since I was twelve and I decided I would train for the Games.

Personally, I've always hated the Reaping Ceremony. Too much repeated rambling, I suppose. But by now I could already have volunteered and be on the train to the Capitol, and finally getting into the arena to make my father proud. I know I can win, and when I do I'll be skyrocketed to a place of honour and respect.

The fools from One make me laugh. Where they keep their egos is beyond me, and hopefully I'll have the chance to kill at least one of them.

When my father and I reach the square, he gently puts his hands on my shoulders.

"You have skill, Berrin. Don't loose that in allies or anything that arena throws at you. You can win. Hell, you will win." he smiles, but his voice is serious. I genuinely wish to have my father as my mentor in the Capitol, but it became forbidden when former winners became biased and helped their tribute offspring and completely neglected the other tribute. No matter, though, as my father has already trained me for six years.

As for Calix's remark, it was all but obvious. I will win, even if it takes obliterating every tribute. And I can do that without blinking.

My father leaves to meet my sister and mother in the crowd, who I already said goodbye to. I search through the crowd of eighteen's and eventually find my best friend, Ender and girlfriend Corinne.

We all make small talk for a few minutes, knowing the ceremony is going to start soon.

"Make sure you kick ass for me in that arena, alright?" Corinne says affectionately.

"I think that can be arranged." I smile, and our lips meet quickly before damn Mayor Pine takes the stage and begins to speak. Corinne and I pull away from each other and turn to face the front.

While Mayor Pine drones on and on about shit nobody cares about, I wonder who will be my District partner this year. Hopefully someone who brings in some competition. I also have the Quell to think about, which should certainly be interesting, but I hope no one forgets what traditional killing is. If they do, I'll just have to remind them.

When the fucking Mayor Pine finishes, I can see everyone perking up again when a new freak of nature shows up. Aristo, or something. Either way, he looks like someone ate blue and green candy-canes and threw up on him.

Aristo, at least makes the citizens of District Two laugh because of how pitifully stupid he is. Whereas Mayor Pine is simply downright boring and uncharismatic.

His speech lasts about ten minutes of the worst, most depressing pep-talk I've ever heard. Even counting the times he almost passed out from physical exertion. In other words, pumping his fists in the air too rapidly.

He finally goes over to the girls' bowl, and I hear Corinne catch her breath. I put my arm around her shoulder, and fathom why she would be nervous. Corinne has never taken tessarae in her life, and the number of female Careers in our District this year are high.

The freak grabs a slip and gets halfway through the name when a seventeen, Cassidy Charme has volunteered and is smiling widely, as she strides up onto the stage.

I'd seen her around school before, with a pack of friends who all train every free moment of their lives. Good, I can have at least a little fun fighting her.

I'm trying to strain a psychotic smile as Aristo walks to the boy's reaping bowl and grabs a piece of paper, pulling it closer to eye level. Before the name is even uttered in the slightest, my voice is ringing throughout the square.

"I volunteer!"

I feel like I am walking on clouds. When Cassidy and I make it to the Justice Building, we hardly acknowledge each other's presence, or even speak for that matter, as we both have refused visitors. The competition between us is just blossoming.

I'll make sure I put on a good show when I kill her.

**What do you guys think?**

**Please, read and review! ****J**


	6. District 3 Reaping

(Euca Trinmon D3)

My thoughts are racing as I lift the knife closer to my chest. _Do it! _I shriek to myself. There's no point in living my drab, painful life anymore. The sharp steel almost makes contact with my skin when a curt voice rings from behind my bedroom door.

"Euca! Get your ass down here, the reaping starts in twenty minutes!" Willow Petra, the orphanage owner for our District bellows harshly.

If only I had done it a few minutes earlier…

Wiping the dust from my plain, ragged once-spring-green sleeveless dress and giving my dirty blonde hair and foggy blue eyes a disdainful look in a cracked mirror, I race down the stairs to meet the rest of the orphaned children for the quick walk to the drab town square.

When I make my way to the other fifteen's, eyes fixated on the scattered gravel, an aura of anxiety fills the air. Most faces are filled with fear. I don't blame one person in the slightest. There aren't many Careers who train in District Three, because most of us are barely getting by.

Mayor Faber, a balding man with dark, beady eyes steps onto the reaping stage awkwardly and begins his speech, starting with the Dark Days and progressing to the Treaty of Treason. I finger the fake hibiscus flower that is strung onto my bracelet, tears pricking my eyes.

Flora. Remembering the day she gave me the small gift would cause too much pain. I wouldn't be in such a mess if I had a sister to talk to, to cry with me, to understand me. But she's dead. Just like any other person I'd been close to. Now I'm left with only myself, and a dreary, useless life.

The words of Mayor Faber begin to fade in my ears, and are replaced by a shrieking, painfully happy voice. Flannery Tyson, a young woman with flowing black hair, a sparkling red cocktail dress, and brown eyes with no pupils is jabbering bubbly about the same old Hunger Games excitement crap.

Before I know it, she's reaching into the girls' reaping bowl, and I can't help but realise the chance that is being offered up to me.

"Clarity Myers!"

Mind racing, I gasp, "I volunteer for tribute!"

I stare at the ground as I slowly walk to the reaping stage, and quickly sneak a peek at the audience. Most faces are painted with confusion. Their thoughts brim in my mind. _Why would she volunteer? _

_To die! _I want to scream at them. To die knowing that some people will know who I am, that I will at least make my mark on Panem.

My first instinct is to cringe from Flannery's too soft skin, but I force myself to firmly shake her hand. She gives me one swift look of curiosity, and then strides to the boy's reaping bowl.

"Mace Ioan-Daire!"

A handsome sixteen with jet-black hair and chocolate brown eyes takes the stage, wearing a cold, calculating stare. I don't even acknowledge him, and he seems perfectly fine with that. Peacekeepers drag us along to the Justice Building, and we are seated steel chairs with black cushions.

Mace does not receive any visitors, and I don't have to kid myself into believing anyone would come to see me. But when a set of doors slowly opens, I see Rowan Yancey. I had talked with him a few times before, and I guess we had developed some kind of friendship, or else he wouldn't be here. He gives a quick wave, and then begins to speak.

"You do well in that arena, okay?" he says awkwardly. I don't have the heart to tell him I volunteered only to get killed, so I nod and smile at him warmly.

"Okay."

(Male Infantry Droid Model/Mace Ioan-Daire D3)

The Creators initiate a final bug scan before I am racing through the streets of District Three, in hopes of reaching the town square before the reaping ceremony commences. As had been mentioned countless times by the Creators, I was to find a place among the sixteen's.

Mayor Faber, a key component in making my existence possible steps onto the stage to give what must be a eulogy on the Capitol and the so called "Dark Days." Unlike numerous citizens in the crowd, I had not experienced a reaping before. Listening intently to the speech, one question crosses my "mind."

_How do humans, so surrounded by beauty, could have created such horrid troubles for themselves? _

The emotions, it must be. Stubbornness, being a large contribution. No person wants to change themselves mentally to please others. Unlike droids, who can be considerably more likeable.

The Capitol is certainly curious. As I listen to the seething words of Mayor Faber, it has become evident as to why I was employed to help overthrow them. Why I will be used as a means of fighting the Capitol, first by obliterating the Hunger Games.

The government is so corrupted with trepidation of their inferiors, that they will go to such lengths as killing children to satisfy their need for secured power.

As Mayor Faber bounds off the stage, a rather strange woman takes his place. How loathed she is by District Three! When she has chosen a female tribute, another girl has expeditiously volunteered, and she makes her way to the stage in an unnoticeable fashion.

The Capitol woman then pulls and calls my composed name from the glass ball,

"Mace Ioan-Daire!"

The Creators have told me to come across as calculating, which is prosperous. The girl and I are brought to the Justice Building, the place where my construction had begun, except deep underground. This time I am placed in a dark velvet seat, clearly above ground.

A boy comes to visit the girl, who I now have learned is named Euca, and the share a quick exchange that I do not care to listen to.

My only thoughts are veered to the plan I had been assigned to, overthrow that painstaking Capitol and have a new world blossom.


	7. District 4 Reaping

**Very special thanks to Number One Fan of Journey, PeachyKeenx088, GhostWrite123, and TransFormers101, Kirapaw, and The Browneyed Bookworm for being extremely loyal reviewers! Now, on with the District Four reaping!**

**PS: Please tell me if I am writing your character incorrectly, so I can fix him/her next time.**

**PPS: A couple people asked, and I thought I'd answer now; I will be doing the sponsor thing, so when the time comes in the arena you can have some fun!**

**PPPS: This is just getting ridiculous…but please tell me who you would like to be aligned with so I can ask the character's creator. Thanks!**

(Alaia Hemlock D4)

My silver-blonde braid bounces in the light breeze as I walk towards the town square, holding Harbor's hand tightly. He's sweating bullets, I can tell.

It's been hard for us both, ever since our mother died. One less person to keep our family going, and one less person to, well, be there for us. My father, Reed works countless hours, and yet that still isn't enough. Both me and Harbor, who is on his second reaping, had to take tessarae. I convinced Harbor to give less than me, as he wouldn't stand a chance against that Three this year, with his rippling muscles and heartless glare. People like this disgust me.

The town square is now slides into view, a peninsula surrounded by docks, lapping water, and clean shops. I breathe in the salty sea air and glance at the sky, a clear, beautiful blue with puffy white clouds. Such scenery should not be subject to something as horrible and life-taking as the reaping.

An ocean of a crowd lay in front of Harbor and I, so before he can take off, I hold his shoulders.

"Listen to me. Don't panic; just go into that crowd with dignity, alright?" He nods, and I give him a quick hug before I part to the area of sixteen's.

Lakelann Dabley, a fellow sixteen and my best friend spots me and weaves herself through the crowd, a silver sequin flower in her hair glittering in the sun. Brushing away my nervousness, I walk forward to meet her.

"Look at you. Gorgeous as ever." she smiles.

I savour my few moments of happiness, and giggle, smoothing my tight black dress. "Look at yourself, Lakelann. You'd have something to show if you were called."

But she won't be called.

Lakelann has always had it better, even living in a family twice as big as mine. I'd never held it against her, but it had always nagged me, especially the times when we would stay over at each other's houses for dinner. Lakelann's family could provide a large feast for us, and my father had to give meagre portions of cod and standard District Four bread.

Snapping back to the present, I see Mayor Zehner making her way to the stage. She smiles warmly at the crowd, but I know it's for the cameras. I roll my eyes.

She starts the annual speech as mandatory, insufferably boring us all to death. I steal a glance to a few of the newest Hunger Games winners in our District, wondering if we will have another this year.

Sitting off to the side looking bored is Evan Vorhes, a fifteen with long sandy blonde hair and sea green eyes. He won the Games when he was twelve using knife and nature expertise.

Celeste Barnette, a tall, dark haired twenty with beautiful yet terrifying brown eyes stares dead straight into the distance. She won the Games at sixteen, killing brutally and utterly destroying the Career pack.

The rest of them fade into the background, not being of much significance.

Mayor Zehner finishes, and there is a brief, beautiful silence before Xabier Ubell, a thin man with spiky powder white hair streaked with blue is bouncing onto the stage, trilling, "Happy Hunger Games!" and so forth. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Xabier makes sure to keep the crowd in suspense, and I feel my knees shaking as he calls the name.

"Alaia Hemlock!"

I only have a few seconds to register my angle. I draw a breath and walk forward, stretching a fake flirtatious smile onto my face. Before placing a foot onto the stage steps, a wail rings through the square. Harbor.

His eyes are trained on my face, tears trickling down faster and faster. A lump forms in my throat, and I want to embrace him, tell him everything will be okay. But I can't.

Because everything is not okay. This is the Hunger Games.

I finally stride up to Xabier, and Lakelann makes her way towards Harbor to quiet him. I shake hands with the escort, trying to hide my disgust.

"Alrighty then! Boy's next!" Xabier shrieks, walking over to the boy's reaping bowl and grabbing a name.

"Scilence Moores!"

A small twelve is nervously weaving through the crowd, until a voice shouts from behind him.

"I…I volunteer for tribute!"

A good-looking fifteen with dark, messy hair and sea-green eyes mounts the stage, wearing a strange, goofy smile. A few snickers come from the crowd at the boy's strange name and grin. We are both ushered into the Justice Building, and seated in dark blue egg chairs with posh throw pillows.

The Building doors swing open, and I'm hugging Harbor and my father so hard it hurts. When we finally break apart, Reed just stares at me.

"Keep that necklace safe, Alaia. Your mother would want you to bring it to the Games."

I grasp the large sand dollar necklace on my neck, tears threatening to spew across my face. Before my mother died, all those years ago, she had told me I could receive it when I first had children, just as my mother had. Before one salty tear can slide down my face, I wipe them furiously.

"I'm coming back."

It's not like I've not a chance. District Four is a Career district, and I can use a knife well, if not perfectly. So why am I crying, then?

_Because you know there is going to be people who can do much, much more. _I try to push the thought away. I need to try, for my family at least.

Both Harbor and Reed nod, fully believing in me. But soon the Peacekeepers are saying in their harsh tones to leave, and I give both of them a hand squeeze, finally giving up and letting a few small tears stream down my face.

But then I snap back to reality.

_Stop it, you insufferable coward. You're going to win these games and help your family out of poverty. Anything it takes._

The visit with Lakelann is quick, she exclaims that she knows I can win, and to just remember everyone will be watching and cheering me on. I smile, and we hug for a while until she is ordered away.

My last visitor is River. I've known him for years now, not as many as Lakelann but he means just as much to me. As a friend, of course. He smiles warmly, and I walk to him, waving.

"Alaia, I need to tell you something." he says, drawing a breath.

"Hello to you too." I say, pretending to sound bitter but flashing him a smile to know I'm joking.

Before I can register what is happening, he utters three terrifying words, ones that I cannot fathom to deal with now.

"I love you."

I force myself to stay steady. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

It's not like I hadn't considered something might be happening between River and I, but he expects me to know what to say now. But I haven't a clue.

"I…um…"

And before I know it, I'm screaming. About everything. How unfair this all is, how much I long to stay home tonight. _Everything. _River looks confused, and I don't blame him, but I'm just as confused. In a different way, of course, but it's still just as torturous.

River then steps forward and wraps his arms around me, and I become quiet. It's not a romantic hug, it's a friendly, supportive one. I just want to stand there, in this moment.

"Listen…I just wanted you to know what I have been thinking for a long time. When you come back, you're going to figure out how you feel about it, okay?" he says in a pained whisper.

I give him a sad nod, and before he must be dragged away by the Peacekeepers, I kiss his cheek, unsure why.

And at that moment, my desire for coming back home has received a new meaning. It's not for me, it's for the people who have rooted themselves into my heart. Habor. Reed. Lakelann. My Mother. And River.

_(_Rat-Trap Moores D4_)_

"Rat-Trap! I have a gift for you, for the weaping." Raindrops, my young sister says in her small tone, smiling broadly. I give a small chuckle at her mispronunciation. She fiddles with a clasp on the small wooden box she received for her fifth birthday this year, pulling out a doll the size of my thumb. I crouch down to get a closer look.

The doll has a painted wooden face and ragged blue dress. It's been in my family for a while, passed down from my grandmother, mother, my older sister Rattling, and now to Raindrops. She places it in my hand gently.

"Thanks, Drops." I ruffle her hair and kiss her forehead.

Slipping the doll in my dress shirt pocket, I make my way to my mother, Hollis' room. The door is halfway open, and I peek my head through. She nods her head, beckoning for me to enter.

Hollis has been deaf since before my siblings and I were born, but she never told us the cause. I know it aches at her horribly, watching her make pronounced clacks with her only pair of heels, as if she expects to hear it. I hate watching my mother suffer like this, wishing to hear the crisp sounds of birds in the morning, or even a high pitched shriek. She wouldn't care. It's why we're all named after Hollis' most favoured sounds.

Rat-Trap. I grimace at my name. What had compelled my mother to give me such a strange, rather unpleasant name?

I cross over to her nightstand, which is has drawers filled to the brim with paper and pencils. I grab one and scrawl, _Are you ready?_ In handwriting. She nods her head, straightening the creases in her white eyelet dress.

I hold Raindrops' hand as we stroll through the streets to the town square, Hollis holding our newborn sister Violin. Rattling, Howling, and Scilence lagging behind us. It's Scilence's first reaping, and he looks terrified. Thankfully, Rattling has been whispering words of encouragement in his ear, as she has made it through all her reapings.

As despicable as the Hunger Games is, I'd never really been particularly terrified by it. Death is so quick, so irrelevant in the grand scheme, that I have learned to enjoy the middle.

Middles. You're whole life is a middle, so why is everyone trying to buy themselves more time? Death is inevitable for everyone, and enjoying the moments you have is much more sensible.

Before I know it, we have arrived in the town square, the sun glaring down on us.

I say quick goodbyes to the rest of my family, and move through the crowd until I reach the area for the fifteen's. My cousin Millisan slides into view, waving to me. I wave back, and make my way towards her.

We have little to no time to talk, because Mayor Zehner begins her speech eagerly, stretching her charismatic abilities for the Capitol audience. I hear snippets of the annual dialogue, but I allow most to be a faint buzz in my ears as I pull out a small rubix cube on a rusted chain, finishing the puzzle quickly.

The next speaker is Xabier Ubell, an incredibly strange man in his own right, just like most citizens of the Capitol. He shouts the same unintelligible phrases as usual, and after a while, the girl's name is picked.

"Alaia Hemlock!"

A young boy is letting out pained cries when a pretty girl with silver blonde hair and unique violet eyes walks to the stage, smiling convincingly enough.

Time is flying by rapidly now, and I realise Xabier is rising the boy's slip to his eyes.

"Scilence Moores!"

I feel my eyes bulge out of their sockets and I barely have time to register what I'm doing.

"I…I volunteer for tribute!" I boom.

Alaia and I are rushed into the Justice Building, and seated in plush, dark blue chairs. When she has finished with her visitors, which takes a while I might add, but I don't hold it against her. The doors burst open, and my whole family is flooding into the room. Scilence and Raindrops are wailing, and I spend my time hugging the life out of them, telling them it's going to be fine.

I could do well in the Games, after all. I tell myself not to get cocky, but if I don't have confidence in myself I can't win.

Later, I give quick hugs to Howling and Rattling, and smiling to let them know I can do it.

Most of my siblings file out, until I'm left in the room with just my mother. She doesn't like to talk much, but this moment seems fit.

"I think it's time I told you why I named you Rat-Trap." she whispers. So, she had noticed my confusion.

For the first time I feel in danger of crying. Not because of what I will face in a few days, but how much I am risking by leaving my family.

"The last thing I heard before I went deaf in the hospital was a rat-trap, you know. I fell asleep watching the rat run into the trap, when I woke up, unable to hear, I watched the rat struggling so hard. It was a fighter. I felt like that rat, dangling onto what I wanted so much. I know it's not the name you would have wanted, but I hope this makes you feel better." she flashes a small smile, and we're hugging tightly.

"Thanks, Mum." I whisper in her ear.

And then she gone, just like that, forced away by the Peacekeepers.

**It's finally finished! LOL thanks for waiting so long, guys! Please review with your thoughts! : )**


	8. District 5 Reaping

**Hi guys! Sorry this update took so long, I had it written but I was at my cottage where there is no internet, so I couldn't post it. Note to Batooo, you didn't include Bailey's age so I made it seventeen, as most training Careers are that age. I'll be happy to change it later if you review or message me with a different age. **

**Oh, and I'll warn you now that Bailey enjoys using profanity. What can I say? She's quite outspoken. XD**

**For Kael, I want you all to know the beginning is in italics as a flashback and then it goes back to normal to show the present day.**

**Please read and review! : )**

(Bailey Gizer D5)

I'm whizzing through the fields, clutching my loaded and brilliantly crafted bow, until I finally spot my older brother Zero sneaking through the tall grass, the sun glinting down on his own silver bow, making it shimmer.

I shoot a volley of arrows ( fake, training ones of course) at his neck, but before they can reach him he ducks, and sends one of his arrows towards my stomach. I sidestep the attack, and race towards him, shooting with great aim. I'm moving with incredible speed now; repeating swift ducks and sidesteps, until I'm a few feet from Zero.

He smiles, and shoots the last arrow in his quiver. I snatch it before it can make contact with my skull, and break it in half. He knows now is when our father, Orion would tell us to start the hand to hand combat. Zero clenches his hands into fists and gets a good punch to my stomach, almost knocking me to the ground. I straighten myself up, and with all my force, bundle both my fists together and smash his nose. He falls to the ground, blood staining his white shirt.

"STOP!" My father's voice echoes through the field. It's not angry, but sure as hell Zero's going to be.

He gets up off the ground, daggers shooting from his eyes.

"Dumbass! I'm going to go to the reaping with a crooked nose!" He booms at me.

"_You're_ the dumbass, your technique was horrible." I say indifferently, smirking.

Orion just shakes his head and orders Zero to go home and get ready. I expect he's going to give me the praise I certainly deserve.

"Listen to me, Bailey," he says sternly," you know the reason I train you and your brothers for the Games, and it's not for you to go and volunteer. It's to give you chances if you're picked. DO NOT VOLUNTEER."

The stupid old codger. I'm volunteering, and when I win and receive that gorgeous house and all that glory, he's going to be so fucking sorry.

When I reach home, I dress in a black party dress with a shimmering fitted bodice. I apply minimal makeup, because let's face it, I really don't _need_ it.

When I reach the square, a stony smirk frozen onto my face, I'm actually beaming on the inside. I'm going to wipe all those bastards out this year.

My father, Zero and the rest of my brothers are eyeing me with anxiety. They're all worried I'm going to volunteer. Damn right I am. The sooner they accept that, the better, and if they can't…

Well they'll be missing out on all the riches in Victor's Village.

I push through the crowd in front of the reaping stage, until I reach the designated seventeen area.

Mayor Opal drones on and on in his monotone voice, reciting the same speech he does every year. About the Dark Days, and our unfailing devotion to the Capitol, yada yada yada. It's so effing boring.

Gypsy Listowel, a woman shimmering _completely _gold prances onto the stage, flipping her hair and smiling as if she's supposed to be attractive. Look at me, I don't even have to try and she's spray painting herself with all kinds of crap.

"It's a pleasure to be here in District Five today!" she pipes, eyes bulging from their sockets. Freak.

She continues to blabber on stupidly, and I steal glances around the crowd. We have little to none male Careers this year, and the only female Career besides myself is an eighteen, Zana Harman. She's the biggest bitch Panem has ever seen.

Finally, Gypsy stops rambling and begins to stride to the girl's reaping bowl. I can't help but spread a malicious smile across my face.

"Robin Kar-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Zana and I say in unison.

Rage is fuelling through me, and before I know it, we're both running to the stage. Zana is getting further ahead, so without thinking I slip off my heel and chuck it straight to the back of her skull. She drops onto the uneven gravel in a heap, unconscious. Some amused whispers come from the crowd, and some horrified gasps. A few people, most likely her family pick her up, scowling at me. The Peacekeepers don't even acknowledge the girl. Of course they don't care too much about what happens around here. I smirk, and step onto the stage.

Gypsy looks very flustered at this point, as if she could pass out just like Zana. I grimace at her triumphantly, and she finally collects herself and, legs' shaking makes her way to the boy's bowl.

"Kael Storlie!"

A rugged looking sixteen is walking to the stage, his limbs clacking uncontrollably. His eyes are glazed with fear, and I stifle a harsh laugh. He'll be killed at the bloodbath, and I'll make sure it's by me.

Before he can reach his spot on the stage beside me, his eyeballs roll to the back of his head. He gives one more twitch, and hit's the stage with a thud.

How many damn people are going to pass out today?

Kael is hoisted over a Peacekeeper's shoulder, and when we reach the Justice Building I refuse visitors. I don't need a stupid ass lecture from five men who think they're better than me. I can't help but burst into laughter when Kael is thrown onto the couch like a rag doll. He wakes up a few minutes later, not doing anything significant.

Then it all hits me.

I'm in the Games. I'm in the Games! I, Bailey Gizer, will not bring mercy to anyone. I'm coming back more terrifying and beautiful than ever.

And if anyone has a problem with that, I hope they'll enjoy a good arrow to the neck.

(Kael Storlie D5)

_The valley is sprouting with small, colourful flowers. A few cows stand in the field, ploughing through grass. A young calf putters around adventurously, being so bold as to nuzzle Garrett. I smile, breathing in the fresh air._

"_Be sure to stay well away from the water. You can't swim yet, and it goes straight to the waterfall." I warn._

_He nods half-heartedly, disappointment brimming in his eyes. _

_We spend an hour gathering roots and leaves for a salad, running along in the field, staring up at the clouds, and climbing the one of the few trees in the small valley. When Garrett announces that he's beginning to get hungry, I search for the backpack I had brought full of food. _

"_You stay here. I left the backpack just up a few hills over there." I point to an assortment of rock and grass a few hundred metres away._

"_Okay, hurry back!" Garrett smiles._

_I run to the hills, and climb them carefully. When I get to the final hill, a loud splash, followed by a bloodcurdling scream echoes in my ears._

"_KAEL! HELP!" _

_Time seems to slow as I dash over the hills, rocks cutting searing pains through my legs. I just keep running, pushing myself forward with all the stamina I have._

_Garrett's struggling to keep afloat in the churning water, his body frozen in terror. When I reach him, I want to dive in, or to even gain control of my limbs, but I can't. I'm frozen, just like Garrett. _

_His heads bobs under the water, and I try to scream for help, but nothing can come out. My throat is dry. _

"_Please…" Garrett croaks._

_And before I black out, he's washed away down the waterfall, screaming my name._

(An Hour Later)

_My father's foot connects with my stomach with powerful impact, making me plunge backwards into the wall. _

"_It's your fault, you bastardly, human scumbag. He wouldn't be dead if it weren't for YOU!" he roars, slamming the door as he storms out._

_My body aches with an indescribable pain. Long sobs wrack my body, and I fixate my eyes to the ceiling._

"_C-come b-back, Garrett. I n-need you. Everything's f-falling apart." I wail._

(Present Day)

I scratch Rascal's ears affectionately and he barks, tail wagging happily.

"I-I'll be back s-soon, Rascal. R-right a-after the reaping."

I walk down the streets, hanging my head. I don't want to deal with anyone who might notice me today. Shortly after I find my place among the sixteen's, Mayor Opal begins his speech. It's painstakingly long, but it finally comes to a close. His voice is then replaced by the loud chirp of a Capitol woman.

When the female's name is called, two girls volunteer, which arouses a large fight. One girl expertly throws her heel straight to the other's skull, and once the unconscious girl is taken away, things settle down. I'm staring ahead obliviously when the escort calls the boy's name.

"Kael Storlie!"

I'm frozen in a dream-like state now, walking up to the stage. When I'm standing in front of the crowd, it's all too much. Thousands of pairs of eyes bore into mine, and my limbs finally give way. I'm shaking uncontrollably, and I hit the cold ground, eyes flying closed.

(Later)

I wake up in the Justice Building with a pounding headache. It takes a second to regain my vision, and then I see her.

Bailey Gizer.

My interrogator since day one. I don't know how many times she's slurred insults at me in her harsh tone, abused me just like my father does.

When her bones are breaking under my hands, I bet she'll finally wipe that smirk from her face.


	9. District 6 Train Ride

**PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys! I want you all to know I'm getting sick of writing reapings, so the rest of the tribute introductions will be on the trains. After that, it will alternate POVs from all different Districts. Also, before you all start saying I'm copying Chocolatiee, she gave me her permission. Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for, sorta! **

(Aver Genie D6)

My eyes scan the elegant train cart wildly. How luxurious it all was, with its polished marble floors, elaborately carved tables, and bright lighting. For certain people, it would whisk away their terror, discomfort, and anger of the situation. But not for me.

My male counterpart, Carter Rollings, doesn't seem to be sold either. His eyes stare blankly ahead with disdain. It's not really a surprise. District Six tributes usually are keen thinkers, and Carter and I are no exception.

I don't speak much as I slide into a cushioned mahogany chair, in front of the dining table. Alejandro Anath, a man heavily representing a monarch butterfly orders a young girl in a white suit to bring in a light lunch. A few others clad in white swiftly drop napkins into our laps, and little by little, our meals begins to appear. I feel my eyes widen, staring at the heap of food on my plate. Pasta smothered in white sauce, spiced chicken ringing along the sides. I can't help but gulp it down. I've never had such delicacies, living in a family on the border of District Six.

Carter and I are introduced our mentors once our stomachs are full. There's one male, and one female, perfect for the both of us.

Cynrae Harrdock, a blond-haired woman with sharp features and square glasses eyes me with her brow raised. She won the Games at least ten years ago when she was eighteen by creating poison concoctions that she dipped blow darts into, tracking down tributes in the dead of night. I admire her spirit, but I myself have never wielded a weapon. Relying on my intelligence is rather risky, as smart as I may be.

Carter and his mentor, Daxen leave the cart to strategize, and Cynrae finally speaks.

"Aver Genie, what can you do?" she asks, giving me her calculating stare yet again. I clear my throat before speaking, mind racing.

"I'm rather intelligent," I begin, " and I know survival as well as any Career knows weapons. I'm quick, too, but I can't attack well at all." I pray I don't sound to full of hubris.

Cynrae's gaze shifts to one of curiosity.

"Well, we have something to work with considering the Quell this year." she muses.

I give a curt nod, hoping she will dismiss me. Just a few moments to be alone, for everything to sink in would be wonderful.

"We'll speak more tomorrow. For now, you are free to wander the train."

I stumble along the train until I am directed to my room by a Capitol attendant. Swinging open the door and plopping onto the bed in a heap, I begin to cry into the comforter. My moments of strength are over. The silky covers become stained with tears, and I force myself to sob silently. It takes a few minutes to gain control of my body.

I think of my family. What are they doing right now? My brothers, Slayter and Mic, are most likely prepping the family dinner they will pick at in a cold, sad silence in a few hours. I could almost picture it, I could almost hear their voices…

Then my fingers trail to the woven wool anklet. It wasn't much really, but everyone in my family had one. Never had a piece of fading fabric meant so much to me. It reminded me of our goodbye in the Justice Building. The tight group hug we share, Slayter pinching my arm until I said I'd give everything I had to come back.

I forced my self to perch on the edge of the bed, straightening my hunched shoulders. After fiddling with the television, it finally gives me a vibrant recap of the reapings. The tributes of Districts One and Two are terrifying as always, but is there a brain under those hard skulls? I'm reminded also of how much of an advantage intelligence is this year. Finding the Gamemakers office is _crucial_ for me. So who would be an ally just as full of brilliance as I am?

Carter Rollings.

(Carter Rollings D6)

I know my eyes are beet red by the way they all stare at me. _You're female counterpart is showing much more determination than you! _I can almost hear them snap indifferently. As I glance around the train cart, angry tears threaten to stream down my face. The cart looks like my home, in all its luxury. I can picture my little brother Kolbie setting the table with our gleaming metal silverware. But instead, it's a white coated young girl.

The male mentor, a brute named Daxen, looks angered to see me. We don't have many strong tributes from District Six, and by the way he looks at me, I know he's already gathered that I'm weak. Will intelligence ever be appreciated, even among a District known for it's intelligence?

A decadent lunch is ordered by our escort, even nicer than what I'm accustomed to. I try to eat as much as I can. Hopefully I can gain a few pounds before I enter the arena. Oh, God, the _arena._

I manage to steal a glance at my District partner. She's skinny and petite, but I guess it's from lack of food more than bone structure. Her hair is red and wavy, which makes the impression of tongues of fire. Eccentric looking, a possible personality to play up for the cameras. As of right now, she seems quiet and reserved, like me. I'm happy to not have someone who wants to rip my limbs apart.

Aver and the female mentor are speaking about abilities and strategy, so Daxen takes me into a room with plush couches and a large flat screen television, bigger than the one I have at my home. We both take seats across from each other.

"Please tell me this wimpy kid look is for the cameras." he says gruffly. It takes me a second for it to sink in, and I'm a little stunned.

"Um…no sir." I mutter.

Daxen gives me a disdainful look and flicks on the television. A large, muscular boy is on screen, his voice booming as he volunteers.

"Look at that. Now that's a winner. Berrin Mercer could _annihilate _you. Can you at least do anything?" Daxen asks, grunting.

"Well…" my voice trails, until I think of something, "I'm smart, and I have a good memory."

"You're hopeless. You better pick up something!" he shouts as the door slams behind him.

Oh, fuck. He's right. What could I do against anyone? Feed them my A+ tests until they choke? I give a couple sobs, and I'm crying again. Then the door opens slightly, revealing Aver. I vigorously wipe my eyes, hoping the tears are now unnoticeable.

"It's okay," she says quietly, " I was crying too." I then noticed her eyes, brimmed red.

"Oh." Is all I can choke out.

"I was umm…wondering if you had thought of any alliances." she says in her barely audible tone. It's clear both of us aren't exactly masters of charisma. But then I realise what she said.

"You, want me…as an ally?" I stutter in disbelief. She nods.

"We're both smart. We should both be able to find one of the Gamemaker's offices, and if we do that…"

I already know the answer. If we do that, we could kill _anyone_. Anyone!

"You…you have yourself a deal."

And then a flicker of hope bursts through me. Focusing on my pros, not my cons, is what I need to do. Then, maybe, just maybe, I can show Daxen strength isn't everything.


	10. District 7 Train Ride

**Sweet, District 7! My brother calls this the human beaver District. LOL. A little more than half way through the character intros! Lets hope I can finish all these quickly an that things in my life slow down a bit. I have a few things to address in this author's note. So if you're not already reading, please read! **

**First, I wanted to start suggesting songs for you guys. I'm a huge Rush and classic rock fan, and am usually inspired by those types of songs, so please tell me if you're into stuff like that. Rock usually has mind-provoking lyrics. Oh, and if you don't know who Rush is, go you tube them. Your life isn't complete until you do that.**

**Second, I wanted you all to know I would love to hear your ideas for arenas and mutts. I already pretty much have an arena mapped out, but if you have something really good then please share. I'm a little stuck for mutts, so PM or review me some if you want. **

**Third, I want to hear your thoughts on my idea for the Quell. You guys have been ninja quiet on that topic, so I want to hear if you like or despise the idea. I'm not going to change it, but I just want to hear your thoughts. xD**

(Sofiel Adrayscaus D7)

I stare blankly out the gleaming glass window. A barren landscape blinks back at me, and I feel my tear stained knuckles slam against the mahogany cabinet repeatedly.

The trees. How I miss the security they provided. They almost seemed to form a firm, impenetrable wall. The terrible, inconvenient emotions were forced away when I was among rough bark, musky air, and moist leaves. Sadness? Whisked away. Fear? Unthinkable. I was in peace with myself there.

Conflict poured out almost immediately when I was forced into the train. It was so artificial, with its gleaming televisions, polished hardwood floors, and elegantly carved tables. How many trees were sacrificed to create a vehicle now dead tributes could cry, reminisce, and strategize their final moments of life in?

I take a moment to simply calm my rage, forcing myself to think of something else. I wonder who back home would miss me. Not many, since seldom I speak or interact with anyone.

My family might miss me, if they weren't dead. Dead, dead, dead. So many people dead. Where would they all have _gone_ to? It's stupid to begin crying again, considering I had decided to get over it and try to keep myself from starving on the streets.

There was Marylin, surely she would miss me. If she were taken away, like myself, I couldn't even bear the thought. Marylin, the girl that was my only comfort when no one else cared to glance at me.

"_If you won't win it for yourself, Sofiel, win it for me, okay?"_

Her words ring softly in my ears and it finally hits home. It was unquestionable. As much as I couldn't stand the present, I would need to win the Games for Marylin, at least. My only friend, although she could be counted as a sister, the way she cared for me.

My anger at the situation had still not cooled, despite my newfound confidence. Picking up a delicate vase, I hurled it straight at the television. The colourful porcelain erupted on my target, pieces of it showering down _everywhere._ A ragged crevice had formed into the electronic, stretching along its endless width.

My stringy black hair swishes in my face as I lunge upward to the extravagant lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling. I quickly let go as it crashes onto the bed and litters the floor with sparkling crystal. A sharp shriek of triumph escapes my lips.

Before I pull the large mirror from the wall, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My strange gold eyes are enlarged, my hair is tangled and matted, my arms and cheeks are creased with bloody scratches. It doesn't faze me in the slightest, it almost gives me strength. May as well get used to what I'll be looking like in the arena.

The gleaming glass smashes easily, but the hard gold rimming the mirror finally dents after dropping around five times. I'm relieved and incredibly surprised that no one has heard me yet, until a crowd of people are flooding into my room. Attendants with various cleaning equipment, the District Seven escort, and my potential mentor.

"Leave it." I whisper to the people, who are already beginning to collect the fragments of scattered glass.

"Oh, goodness!" the escort, Corianna, gasps, surveying the seen with wide eyes, "This is really quite the mess. You _must_ have it cleaned immediately!" she chirps, but then she arranges her features into a pout. "The civilized tributes in Districts One and Two would be much more courteous! I bet the salary for their escort is much better as well…" she mumbles to herself, giving me a glare. I simply turn around, and when she trots out of the room, I order the white coated attendants, once again, to dismiss the clutter I had spent so long creating.

"And dinner begins in two minutes, Sophien!" Corianna pipes from rooms away. I grimace at her mispronunciation of my name.

I tiptoe over the debris, and wander along the carts until I am directed to the dining cart. I feel nauseous again, just like the first time I stepped foot into the train.

Everything is wood. Wood floors, tables, so much more. Are they trying to humour us?_ Look what we do with all the trees you work so hard to get to us. More helpless children get to sit here as well, having to pretend they're having a good time._

Everyone in the room gives me a look shock. Corianna must have told them what I did by now, but my appearance must be unnerving. Good, something to be happy about.

My District partner, Slate and I hardly speak at all while our mentors and escort jabber away, asking me questions in sharp, quick voices. I reduce it all to a buzz, and stare down at my plate. Anywhere but the rest of the room. Chewing the pink steak, I try not to enjoy my meal. _It's made by the Capitol! _I tell myself. _It's trying to trick you!_

But I finally give up. This is the first full meal I've had in weeks, months even.

"So, what were your lives like back in District Seven?" a male mentor, Jonah, asks.

The absurdity of telling these strangers my life story is so ridiculous I almost spit out my water. I give a small shake of my head, glaring at him. It means, _No, I'm not going to tell you something you're going to forget about two minutes from now. Especially considering what I live through._

No one else speaks to us, as it is a lost cause. It has become crystal clear Slate and I did not sign up to be pestered by perky Capitol made, or Capitol transformed people.

After dinner, we are forced to sit and watch the reaping with Jonah, Corianna, and the rest of the mentors. Rarely, someone would make the occasional comment, but the air quickly fills back to a stone cold silence, apart from the voices on the television.

When I am finally allowed back to my room, I tuck myself under the covers. Pieces of

Ragged crystal are still scattered on the bed, but I hardly notice them. It only takes a few more seconds until I'm shrieking and sobbing for at least two hours. My voice then cracks and goes hoarse, so I hurdle a small glass clock at the corner of the ceiling.

Just for good measure.

(Slate Blackwood D7)

I sit stiffly in a suede armchair, immersed in my thoughts. Why couldn't they be the ones sent off to a painful death?

My terrible excuses for parents surely must be celebrating my disappearance from their household. Or maybe they wish they could be the ones to murder me brutally, to feel my hot blood drip through their hands. I would wish that and so much more inflicted upon them. How many times had they tormented me, delivering powerful blows to my limbs, bruised and tainted my skin beyond repair?

The reaping was quick and prosperous. A girl with hunched shoulders and pained eyes was chosen as my female counterpart; she gave off an aura of silent strength, and seemed to be boiling with anger. When I was chosen and took the stage, it was already evident I would not be missed by anyone. At least that Sofia had one person, a best friend that cared for her, or would mourn her passing. Damn her. Damn those people who weighed themselves down with that large, terrible component in life. Relationships. Friendships. Acquaintances. Family. Avoid hurt and depression by never trusting anyone but yourself.

I longed for the rustic steel of an axe to grip in my palms. And for the open wilderness. It seemed so open, so unexplored. I despised when the landscape became raw, and dead. How vulnerable it felt.

Every now and then I would observe the woods. They stretched so _far_, it almost seemed unreal. Were there areas like this further from here? Away from the Districts? It would be bliss, to start a whole new life amongst the trees, alone from all people. Just myself, the forest, and wildlife. I kept my eyes closed tightly, letting the images of lush green spread throughout my mind.

I wouldn't let myself survey the room I am confined to again. It was _suffocating_ me, being so small, and commercial. Shaking my head in disgust and prying open a window, I breathed in the clean air. The landscape was progressing to a plain, but I simply ignored it and invited the open space.

The next hour was spent hanging over the window with my eyes shut. I could almost trick myself into believing I was still in the woods of District Seven, if I tried hard enough. It became harder and harder to relax as loud pangs echoed from the room beside me, followed by primitive shrieks. I simply dismissed the noise, as increasingly odd it was becoming.

"Slatter! Meet us in the dining cart!" A Capitol woman squeaked in her enthusiastic tone. I was tired of the stupid woman not having the decency to say my name properly.

Seething to myself, I slammed the door behind me and found my way around the train. My District partner had not yet arrived, and I was squeezed between two mentors, directly across from our escort, Corianna.

"You should _see _the mess that Sophien girl has made! It's disastrous! The chandelier is broken, the television cracked, the mirror toppled over! How uncivilized!" she gawks in a disapproving tone, "The money she has wasted!"

I come to the conclusion it must have been Sofiel who created the noises I heard earlier. Just then, she enters the cart, her appearance absolutely dishevelled.

The rest of the night is spent eating a meal of seasoned steak; cheese filled bread, and buttered beans. I've never had much of an appetite, even for Capitol food, so I pick at half of my plate, Corianna giving me dirty looks, which I return gratefully.

"So what were your lives like back in District Seven?" a man says, trying to break the silence. Anger shoots through me immediately, and I glare at him, my muscles tensing. This man isn't interested in getting to know me. It's all to make him seem more desirable, for us to compliment him on television. Not in a million fucking years will I give in to such shallowness.

Clenching my jaw and staring ahead, I drone them all out in an attempt to grasp my last bit of sanity. Speaking to these idiots would not help my cause.

_Just keep remembering what matters. You are the only person who understands what you go through. Trust only yourself._


	11. District 8 Train Ride

**Hope you guys like this chapter! I was also wondering if you would all mind checking out a drabble story I wrote called Fading Humanity. It would mean a lot to me. **

**On with the story:**

(Zina Reedmore D8)

I examine the television closely, eyes currently trained on a brown eyed girl with sparkling green eyes. From the grime that covers the landscape around her, its clear this reaping features District Twelve.

I've seen flirtatious, deadly, quiet, intelligent, cold, confident, bubbly, friendly, and almost everything in between flashing onto that spotless screen. _Where do you fit? _I think to myself, almost critically.

I stare at myself in the mirror intently, examining the potential. A girl with olive skin, pin-straight black hair with bangs, and sharp hazel eyes blinks back. Even across Panem, not many look like me either.

Subconsciously, my fingers fumble to the small locket wreathing my neck. Prying open the rustic silver, a creased card of paper floats onto my lap. Unfolding the paper for what seems like the millionth time, I carefully read its contents.

I smile as I scan the untidy scrawl. It seems like almost yesterday when my adopted mother, Yara Reedmore, told me the story of the Ugly Duckling.

"_How come I look different than all of you, Mommy?" I had asked so innocently, eyes widening in confusion, and a slight sadness, while I pulled the tattered teddy bear closer to my chest._

"_Zina, there's nothing wrong with being different." Yara had said, ruffling my hair. I was only six; it wasn't time to tell me the whole truth._

"_I don't like it, I don't!" _

"_Sh, sh," she had soothed, stroking my hand, "I'm going to tell you a story that will make you feel better."_

_I was weary at first, but soon became overcome by rapture. _

"_So you see, Zina you are beautiful, just in a different way then all of us." _

"_Please, please read it again!" I had chanted eyes bright._

_Yara laughed, what a beautiful sound it was, filling the air with joy, and kissed me on the cheek before flicking the lights out._

_That night, I slept more soundly than I ever had before._

I glared at myself as hot tears slipped soundlessly from my eyes. A Capitol attendant appeared from the doorway, holding a box of patterned tissues.

"Go. Away. Now." I seethed through my teeth, rage replacing my misery. I slump onto the ground and scream into the bed skirt, clawing through the threads. I spend the next hour in this frigid position, until my limbs begin to ache. Straightening myself up onto the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, I catch a glimpse of my eyes in the mirror.

They're different now. How do I look…classier than before? I was just crouched on the ground, rubbing my eyes like a maniac!

I can't help but admire the way they bore into the glass, they show a somewhat pretty young woman, who has a wild side. You wouldn't be able to catch it unless you really look. And then, I come to the conclusion that I will be that girl. The kind one that you overlook, but secretly has a burning fire in her, one she's going to use if she has to.

And no, she won't trust anyone. She never really has.

A rare smile forms onto my lips, and quickly vanishes when the District Eight escort, Lazare, shrieks my name in his high pitched tone.

"Time for dinner, Zina!"

I take my time strolling through the train until I reach the dining cart, elaborately designed with large paintings, a glowing crystal light fixture, and gleaming silverware.

We are served a sea creature that I learn from Lazare is a lobster, an assortment of vegetables, and baked potatoes, so different from the bland, unseasoned ones I was accustomed to at home.

I find no need to mingle with the escort, or my district partner Hexavire. Instead, unfailing attention will go to my mentor, Gwendolyn.

She's tall and thin, with limbs so fragile they look like twigs. I'm tempted to ask her how in the world she won the Games, but she must have caught the look on my face. She chuckles, and begins to speak.

"It's all about having clever fingers. You got some?"

I swallow my last bit of food and begin, "Not in the snares department. I can climb and scale trees _very_ well, though, and starting fires is simple. I know who to trust and who not to trust, too."

Gwendolyn takes a swig of wine, and nods approvingly. "We can work we that. For now, I want you to come with me to view some old Games tapes."

Taking a seat in a leather corner couch next to Gwendolyn, she fiddles with the flat screen, and then pushing what I assume is a tape into a contraption beside the electronic.

She sit back down beside me, and crystal clear videos burst into the screen. After a few reapings are shown, it progresses to District Eight. When the female tribute is mounting the stage, a gasp catches in my throat.

It's _me. _Well, not quite. She could be my twin, maybe an older sister. I'm subconsciously rooting for her the entire way, and when she wins, delivering a thrust of her last throwing knife straight to her adversaries' neck, I give a small grin.

Then an idea sparks into my mind. Was that…was that my mother? The idea seems so absurd, yet also practical. Someone doesn't just mirror my features, come from the same District as me, and…not be alive anymore. The last thought hurts to think about, even if the woman wasn't my mother.

For the rest of the night, I force myself to push the issue aside. I'm in the Hunger Games, and I need to live.

When I'm dismissed to my bedroom, I pull the covers high over my head, trying to get away from everything. But I can't help just one more thought.

Maybe in that arena, I'll finally have my swan moment.

(Hexavire Lucas D8)

I carefully etch equation after equation on the pure white paper, solving them with ease. It keeps my mind from drifting to different, more painful subjects.

I love numbers. No matter how many times you stare at them, how many times you solve their riddles, they stay the same. There are no surprises, just a jumble of loops and scrawls that will never turn on you. I marvel how unlike life they are.

When the entire page is exploding with my tidy scrawl, it becomes evident that I can't hide from my thoughts anymore. Flicking the pencil from my fingers, I throw myself, back first, onto the bed.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, it all begins to come to me. How much I want to scream, cry, or simply be hysterical. But I force myself not to. I promised my father, who is my only family, that I would be Hexavire. Not a crazed, angry version of him.

Most people preoccupy themselves with their emotions before the Games, it seems. Maybe…I should do the opposite. Only think of ways to survive these next few days, because if I do, then I can vent my emotions for the years to come, if I wanted to. Yes, I'll stick to being the quiet, intelligent boy who no one would expect to use weapons skilfully.

With a new burst of determination, I flick the television on, until I receive a recap of the reapings.

District One doesn't look incredibly capable, but I assume it's part of strategy. The girl will probably receive sponsors for her looks, and the boy most likely will be in the Career pack with her.

District Two has two sinister looking tributes, the boy being open on his abilities, and the girl trying to encase them in a bubbly smile. Definite Career material.

District Three's tributes surprise me this year. A girl who I couldn't imagine volunteering does, and a quiet, burly boy is called, who doesn't seem fazed in the slightest.

District Four is less Career, but seem to have a flaming determination inside them. I'm rather compelled, to be honest.

District Five's reaping is really quite the show. The girl, maliciously inclined, and the boy overcome by stage fright, or simply fear of the Games.

District Six seems on the weaker side, but most likely very smart, with the way stare out into the distance with their minds racing.

District Seven's male looks strong and insightful, while the female seems to be bristling angrily, her eyes narrowed. I can't tell if she's angered at her luck, or if she simply wants to scare the crowd.

When it comes to District Eight, I can't help but be relieved when I see that both Zina and I shouldn't be counted out this year, like our District usually is.

Districts Nine and Ten both have two cruel looking Career boys, and small twelve's. One of them seems quiet and unreachable, while the other seems almost…excited.

District Eleven is strong this year, with a distant girl who volunteers, and a cheerful, strong willed boy.

District Twelve, to my complete and utter confusion, seems to have fighters this year. A sly looking girl, and a very tall boy who is both brooding and silent.

I blink at the now black screen. There is competition. The thought sounds all too obvious in my head. There always is.

A high pitched squeal comes from outside my room. Lazare, my escort, is ordering my District partner and I to dinner. Collecting myself from the bed, I make my way to the dining cart.

I subject myself to an idle chitchat with Lazare about the Capitol food. It's so delicious that I'm shovelling it into my mouth by the heap.

After dinner, Zina and her mentor, Gwendolyn leave to strategize. I'm then left face to face with my mentor, Kaeden. He's an older man who seems to have the eye of a trained marksman.

"You heard Gwendolyn, with her crack talk about snares being useful? It's all about long range, let me tell you." he says, giving a toothy smile. "But what can you do?"

"Well…" I start, "I've been training with a bow, and throwing knives for as long as I can remember. I wouldn't count myself out with hand to hand combat either."

He nods in approval. "Perfect. Finally, a tribute I can work with."

After another hour of strategizing, I'm dismissed to my room. I lay over the bed, wiping beads of sweat from my brow. It's stifling in here, but it seems to clear my thoughts. Before I drift off to sleep, numbers flash through my eyes.

Nice and reliable.


	12. District 9 Chariot Ride

**Hello, hello! I am REALLY sorry it took so much time to update. I went on a camping trip and got heatstroke, so I was a little sick. This time the character intros are going to be different. Again. It's going to be the chariot rides for the next four chapters. Yes, character interaction! **

**I hope this is satisfying to all of you, and please review! I know most of the beginning stuff is boring but, people who review will possibly have their character's lives spared from bloodbath deaths. Aha, no. That would conflict with plotlines.**

**Oh, and I have a poll up on my profile asking who your favourite character is so far, go VOTE!**

**On with the chapter~**

(Pup Tanner D9)

Ares, the only man in my prep team is trying hopelessly to comb my knotted hair. Pain shoots through my nerves as he yanks harder and harder. I bite my lip to keep from shouting at him.

"Oh, dear. Your hair really is quite the mess!" he chirps, running his finger tips along his shining navy locks, as if to say, _look at me, look at me! _I try not to give a cheerful giggle, but it passes my lips anyway.

I like the sound, a soft joyful chime. It's the first time I've even felt happy since the reaping. I suppose I have been quite driven that I was starting to shadow myself a little.

My other prep team members direct me to a spot across the room with what looks like a sink and a sort of lounge chair. I take a seat, and they lower my neck to the edge of the marble. I shiver as it makes contact with my skin, but my limbs relax as hot water pours through my hair and seeps near my neck.

As they all work through my tangles with silky soap and something called conditioner, I'm left alone with my thoughts, tuning out all the high pitched jabber.

I promised myself I wouldn't think about my family after the train ride, but it all flows into my mind so quickly I can't stop it.

"_You're going to die in that arena, you know."_`

Hawk's words echo in my ears for the twentieth time. My own sister! My own sister!

I can't fathom what I had done to earn her burning hatred for me. It was destined to be a rough day, being my first reaping and all, but when I was called, she turned a blind eye to me, as if I hadn't existed.

My fists clenched, nails pushing into my skin until, unintentionally, I draw blood. Pursing my lips to avoid wincing, I look out the large window to the Capitol. I can't help but gasp at how alien it all is. Narrow buildings, towering into the clouds. Hovercrafts cutting through the air, catching the sun in a brilliant way. The artificial yellows, periwinkles, magentas, and indigos of pedestrians bustling throughout the glinting streets.

My mouth stays agape, and the woman now drying my hair, Venus follows my gaze.

"Much more magnificent than your…what District are _you _from again?" she pipes, ever so blissfully.

"Nine," I reply, trying to maintain my patience.

"_Oh," _she doesn't even try to hide the disgusted look on her face. Shortly after this, Ares once again pulls out the silver comb. It glides through my hair gracefully now, and I have the urge to run my fingers along the strands. My hair has always been rather ragged, except for today. Ares then slips the comb back into his pocket, and spins the cushioned orange chair so that I'm facing my prep team.

"Take off the robe; we need to examine our work before Nyko comes."

I assume they're speaking of my stylist, so I stand up and reluctantly slip the robe from my body. The three of them stride in circles, eyeing me critically.

"I'd say we did a good job, but that's nothing new!" Venus trills confidently, flipping her hair.

They all proceed into a fit of chatter and giggles until a man I assume is Nyko bursts through the door, shaggy silver hair bristling as he walks. He gives a curt nod at me, as if to show his approval.

"Pup, isn't it?" I nod, "We can certainly work with you. You're quite adorable, which the audience and sponsors will love." he says, and I'm not sure what else to do but nod once again.

After a few short seconds Nyko has a large silver bag in his hands. He slips it from the handle, revealing what must be my outfit for the chariot ride.

It's an all black costume, with a fitted black dress, tights, a cape, and what looks like fake ears. The prep team suits it onto my body rapidly, and Nyko orders me to grab the cape and spread my arms out. I then realise, I'm a bat!

After Ares, Venus, and Rhiannon apply heavy dark makeup that makes my rounded features exceptionally prominent, slip the bat ears onto my head, and mould the flats to my feet, my male counterpart, Gerisho and his prep team come into the glistening room, announcing the rides are about to begin.

Gerisho is clad in what looks like a wolf costume. Tattered gray fur pants, black leather vest, glinting claws attached to his fingers, shoes that heavily resemble paws, and a black hood shadowing his face. I have developed a hate for Gerisho these past days, but I don't know why. I've never talked to him, but something tells me a sinister glare is hiding behind that charming grin.

When we arrive to our chariot, pulled by horses the same tan colour as my brother's hunting pouch, Gerisho's stylist tells us both to come across as calculating and deadly, but still charming enough for an alliance. I nod, because I really didn't have a clue how I should act on these rides before.

We take our seats in the chariot, and I'm able to get a better look at the other Districts this year. District One has two Career-like tributes, who are both wearing magnificent suits tailored with all sorts of luxurious contraptions. Gems, silver, gold, and so much more. They are positively glowing, and the audience is going berserk, screaming their names, throwing roses and blowing kisses towards them.

The other Career Districts, although quite predictable in terms of costumes, receive a little more than their fair share of screen time as well.

I also realise that this is the primetime to make alliances, as I certainly can't go into the arena alone. Continuing to scope through the ocean of tributes, I see a girl around fifteen or so, from District Three. Both her and her District partner look insightful, but the similarities stop there. He's muscled and charming, and she seems to have a quiet determination. I then remember the recap of her reaping. She volunteered, didn't she?

Euca Trinmon, I think her name was. I make a mental note to speak with her before she leaves for the Training Center later.

I then feel a gruff nudge to my arm, and I'm snapped back to reality. Stepping off the chariot and giving a slight, yet unreachable smile, I walk along the path set for us. For a tenth of a second mine and Gerisho's faces are on the screen, and we don't look half bad. Desirable, for sponsors and allies.

The screen then begins to flash to the other Districts, and we are at the end of the path. Jumbles of tributes stand outside the building, speaking to one another in all different tones. Gerisho departs to a group of people I assume will be the Careers, and I am left to scan the area for Euca.

I then see her, standing alone and tracing circles with her silver gladiator shoes in the gravel. She always looks so…drained, sad. I trot over to her, hoping I can cheer her up in a way.

"Hi, I'm Pup." I give her a genuine smile.

"Euca," she says in an almost inaudible whisper.

"H-have you thought of any alliances, Euca?" I ask, hoping not to sound too blunt.

"Honestly, I haven't… have you?"

I clear my throat, "Would you want to make an alliance?"

There's silence for a while, and just before I assume she's going to blow me off and leave, but she gives an acute nod. Her smoky black and gray dress swishes by her feet as she walks away.

(Gerisho Pan D9)

They buzz around me doing hell knows what, and all I can think about is how much I want this all over with so I can win and get back home. I'm going to get sponsors anyway, so what's the point of this shit show?

Okay, so there's hot girls running around in revealing outfits, that's one.

But aside from that, it's a shit show.

Before I know it my stylist, who's name is just as flamboyant as her appearance has said her introductions and is fitting me with a ridiculous wolf costume.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I know I'll be able to seduce any girl. Hopefully a Career, they're always hot.

I see blond curls brush my neck, and see one of the only members of my prep team left in the room spraying some crap on my chest. She calls it bronzer, or something.

"I'm Yara, by the way." she grins, batting her lashes.

For a Capitol woman, she's not much of a freak. Her shining hair cascades down her shoulders and her golden eyes aren't bulging. She doesn't seem much older than me, maybe on her early twenties at the most. She's actually…pretty attractive.

"Gerisho. You're a pretty thing." I compliment.

Before I know it, she's leading me down an empty hallway with glinting marble floors, and I'm jittery with excitement. It's been too long since I got a good make out session…

I tangle my hand in her hair, and our lips move in the same urgent rhythm. My hands are on her waist, and she rests hers on my shoulders. I resist the urge to smile as her eyes close.

"We're lucky…no one's found us by now." she gasps through her teeth. I wave my hand in dismissal.

But before we can continue, I hear the clack of heels on the floor, followed by an exasperated sigh. Yara pulls away from my chest and, hands on her hips, glares at my stylist, Ria who returns the look. Fuck.

"Yara, this is freaking ridiculous." she says, followed by a chorus of swears. " Come with me to Pup's prep room, we need to get to the chariots."

When mouse and I have been seated in the chariot and told to portray calculating and deadly, yet still approachable, I know I have a fantastic chance. I don't feel an inch of sympathy, or even empathy for the girl beside me. She's obviously going to die, and the time for worrying about _that_ is over for me.

I stare for awhile at all my competition this year. I've already searched in terms of talent and strategy, so I decide I'll see what girls I can seduce.

The One girl is good looking, but seems to be attached to her District partner, so I cross that off the list. Two and Four are pretty as well, but seem too…subtle.

Three is easy to overlook, and Five…damn. Absolutely perfect. She's hot, hotter than any of the others, feisty by the looks of it, and probably immensely stupid.

I then realise it's our time to get off the chariot, so I nudge mouse and step down, giving slight waves to the audience. I catch a glimpse of us on the screen, but it only lasts for a second, at the very most.

When I reach the end of the path, I search the area for the group of Careers. Standing in the pack is both Ones and Twos, the boy from Three, the girl from Five, the boy from Ten, and the girl from Twelve. I stride confidently towards them, and they accept me into the circle immediately.

The District Five girl is screaming her ass off to the girl from Two, who is shrieking straight back. All the others stare in annoyance, but continue their conversations. I tap Five on the shoulder, and she swivels around, furious glare disappearing from her face.

"Hey, Five." I say, flashing a crooked grin.

"Nine. What's your name?" she asks, twirling her hair on her finger.

"Gerisho, and yours?"

"Bailey Gizer. Nice choice, joining the Careers." Bailey says slyly, giving me a wink.

I'll have her wrapped around my finger, and before she knows it…she'll be dead.

Even if she is hot.


	13. District 10 First Training

**PLEASE READ: I know, let Bailey and Gerisho rip my limbs apart. I'm so sorry for all this long waiting for updates! But then again, I don't think many people are even still reading this story, with all the other SYOC stories around. XD**

**I'm going to change the character intros for yet the millionth time. We're starting training now! So the next three chapters will be from the POVs of District Ten, Eleven, and Twelve. Oh, and the interviews will be from the POV of the Capitol.**

**Happy Reading! And hopefully…reviewing?**

(Angelica Hust D10)

I launch the spear towards the dummy, and watch as it cuts through the air with a hum, hitting it straight to where the heart would be. I give a slight grin and turn to my supposed allies, Aver and Carter. They both give curt nods of what seems like…admiration? Interest? They're so quiet, it's hard to tell. But they seem to be having a conversation with their eyes.

I can't help but squeal with excitement. The Games are so close, so close.

When I first arrived at the Training gymnasium, I got a few strange looks. I suppose it makes a little sense. Twelves aren't supposed to be ecstatic about the Games; they're supposed to be…I don't really know exactly. But I wasn't the norm, that's for sure.

I watch intently as Aver and Carter try their chances with the spears. The instructor winces at their throws, and comes forth to show them some better techniques.

Frankly, I don't care what all the Careers whisper about them. They have brains, which could be crucial for this year's Quell. I'm happy they proposed an alliance. I can fight, and they can help us survive in the wilderness.

After a few more minutes, I walk closer to them, peering over their shoulders as they analyze the spear.

"Hi," I begin, "do you mind if I show you some stuff with the spears?"

"S-sure," Aver says, cracking a small smile.

I fit the weapon into her hand, and position her arm further behind her back.

"If you lift your chin in level with the spear, you'll have better aim." I comment, and she does so. Her limbs tense as she forces the weapon from her grasp. It spirals through the air in a less than graceful way; but it manages to lodge itself in the dummies arm. I smile at Aver in triumph.

"Could…I try?" Carter asks gingerly, already gripping his own spear.

"Sure! It's quite simple, once you get the hang of it…"

We spend a little while more at the station, until I become restless. It's not much of a surprise; I'm almost bouncing up and down, really…

Followed by Aver and Carter, I make my way to the hand to hand combat station. There are a few Career girls present, which earns me some weary looks from my companions.

"Don't worry," I say in a hushed voice, "it's not like they can hurt us…yet."

I try to contain the gasp at my statement. It had come out _terribly_ wrong. Whisking it away and pulling another grin, I trot toward the instructor. I wouldn't say I'm a master at hand to hand, being so small, but I'd like to get better.

From the corner of my eye, I manage to get a glimpse of the jumble of girls next to my group. They all have a terrifying beauty about them, but I won't let it scare me. The girl from One is sitting, knees huddled to her stomach, and clasping her hands over her ears.

No wonder. The girls from Two and Five, I think, are flinging insults at each other in rapid tones, their voices positively ringing with venom.

After giving our rapt attention to the instructor, a firm voice announces that it's time for lunch. The air is filled with idle chatter, and, ugh, more screaming as everyone fills their plates with heaps of food.

I take my tray to Aver and Carter's table, and slide into the bench. We all eat in silence, twirling our mashed potatoes with our forks. I decide to break the ice.

"What's it like back in District Six?" I ask curiously, arching an eyebrow.

Carter gives an albeit smile and begins in a reminiscent voice, "I suppose I have a nice life, a little dull, but nice. I have a little brother whom I miss terribly, and two wealthy parents I didn't see very often,"

I give a nod, an gesture to Aver, who looks a little skittish about the topic, but with an encouraging nudge from Carter, she clears her throat and speaks, "I have two older brothers who made it past eligibility for the reaping, and my family weren't necessarily the richest in the District, so it wasn't a surprise when I was chosen. I had a nice occupation; I was an accountant to the merchants,"

When they inquire about my life, I begin that there isn't much to say. "I live in a family of four; we were well off, which allowed me to train in case I was reaped. And here I am now," I say, blowing a piece of hair from my eyes.

After we finish and discard our meals, I give myself a minute to compose the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

_So close, so close._

(Sile Grenwich D10)

"That damn Two is getting her limbs snapped when I get in the arena."

I swivel around and give Bailey a large grin. How I wish I could do the same to her right now…

"Don't worry, Bailey. It'll come soon." I say reassuringly, being so bold as to put my hand on her shoulder. She whips it away immediately and glares at me.

"Fuck you, Sile. Stop smiling or I'm going to send an arrow through your back once I'm done with Cassidy."

The smile stays plastered to my face until Gerisho throws his arm around Bailey's waist and walks away.

_Just keep acting kind, at least until the gong sounds._

I thrust the rapier into the dummy with lightening blows, until it begins to slam against the wall. Oh, I want to feel their warm blood trickle down my fingertips, to listen to the protracted twists of their necks, to smell the beautiful aroma of tainted flesh…

My eyes close in absolute pleasure, and a tear begins to spread through the soft fabric of the dummy. The stuffing clumps at my feet, and all I can think of is how much I _wish_ it was the mutilated body of a human.

"Hey, Sile. That last thrust was a little choppy, don't you think?" I want to groan at the voice, but instead flash Kira a smile. Her voice is dripping with cheeriness.

"Oh, it was? So sorry you had to see that, "I say with equal ecstasy.

"Tsk,tsk. You aren't living up to the life of a Career at all," she stifles a giggle and I can't help but imagine her decapitated head floating in the lake. Yes, now that would be lovely.

"I'll have to work on it, thanks for the _help,_" I emphasize the last word in mock appreciation. She scowls at her failed attempt to infuriate me, and leaves.

Drawing a breath, I continue to stab the dummy. Seldom can I get peace and quiet, and I cherish the moment. But it only takes a few short minutes until it is long gone.

"Time for lunch, Tributes!"

The vast table, pushed together by the Careers is filled with a buzzing jabber; tones and voices of all kinds ring out in the gymnasium. Tray of food in hand, I plop down in the last spot available, which unfortunately, is beside Faul Verlong.

"It was pretty stupid of you to go off to the sword station instead of the hand to hand station; you could have learned a thing or two from me while _I _was there, I'm _amazing._ Aren't I, Sage?" he boasts to his female counterpart, and she gives a small nod.

"Sure, whatever, Faul," she answers, acutely irritated. When he turns back to me I catch her give a small gesture to her head. It's an L shape, turned horizontally. She mouths, _shoot me._

I don't blame her. Faul has an ego larger than Berrin's arm muscle, and the ignorance as well. Popping a strawberry in my mouth, I examine the tables scattering the large building.

Next to our colossal table sit the girl from Seven, and the boys from Four and Eight, they all seem to be well trained in combat as well as strategic.

Furthest to the wall are the intelligent tributes from Six, and my female counterpart, Angelica.

Diagonal from my alliance are girls from Three and Nine. I've seen both use long-ranged combat proficiently.

I crane my neck to see that the girl from Four and the boy from Seven are in a tense alliance, both don't seem to be the trusting type.

Despite the mask I hide behind, I can't help but imagine the light leave each and every one of their eyes as I pull the rapier from their chests.

Before I can analyze for a second more, everyone around me is dispersing from the tables and back to the stations. I slip my tray into the garbage, and walk to the bow and arrow station with the rest of my alliance. Bailey and Cassidy have resumed their quarrel once again, shrieking curses in octaves that make my ears ring.

"You bitch! I'm doing it right-"

"No, you aren't! You're supposed to-"

"Fuck, if you don't stop talking I'm going to rip your throat out-"

"Babe, she's not worth it, let's leave-" Gerisho tries to intervene, but Bailey pushes him aside and continues to spit and scream.

Then, the entire pack erupts into shouts and howls.

"I knew joining this alliance wasn't a good idea-"

"Bastard! Stop trying to protect me, I can handle myself-"

"Just you wait until we get into that arena; I'll make sure you're dead first-"

"Sage, you still love me, right-"

"Ugh, Faul-"

I manage to push through the crowd to watch Bailey and Cassidy. They both look about to annihilate each other, but before anyone can register Bailey's action, she grabs her celestial arrow and does something that was just waiting to happen. She charges straight to Cassidy; and stabs the arrowhead straight through the District Two's hand.

The whole alliance's argument shrieks to a halt as Cassidy yelps in pain, attempting to launch herself onto Bailey, but is restrained by a rush of Peacekeepers that appear from the door. Both girls are pulled away into different directions.

"FUCK YOU, GIZER!" Blood drips from Cassidy's hand as she wrestles in the iron grasp of the Capitol men.

"LIKEWISE, BITCH!" Bailey pants as the set of door close behind her.

I let one smirk flash across my face as they leave.

_You are all weak, and when your innards are scattered along the grass, you'll know it was Sile Grenwich who brought you to a desecrated grave, not anyone else._

**I'm pretty sure that little 'mishap' puts Bailey higher on the evil scale; I may be so bold as to say she's getting up there with Angel and Ariel, hmm?**


	14. District 11 Second Training

**Okay, I've decided on a fair update rule. I MUST update at least once a week, unless a problem occurs, which I will let you know beforehand about. If I do not update in that time interval, you are free to send me nasty PMs telling me to hurry up. How's that sound, guys?**

**PS: look for a sponsoring guide in the next chapter.**

(Margo Grey D11)

I hate it. I hate it here.

Pursing my lips in an attempt at concentration, I flick the string of the bow, eyes trained on the arrow as it sails through the air-

Clattering to the ground meters from the dummy.

I know I signed up for this, volunteering and all, but it's painstaking to say the least. Right now I could be searching for Griffin. Holding onto the hope that the love of my life could be somewhere in this god-forsaken city was slim nonetheless, but vital. I _have_ to know.

My train of thought is broken when I'm shoved roughly to the side, and an arrow pierces the bull's eye I had just been trying for. I don't even have to see the strands of flaming, well kept hair to know Bailey Gizer was my offender.

A sharp buzz erupts in the air, followed by a crack of outlining electricity across her frame. I allow myself a quick, full look at her.

_Revenge isn't necessary, _I think while biting my lip to avoid laughing, which is a rare occurrence in itself. There's somewhat of a muzzle covering her chin and mouth, allowing not even a snort or shriek of her's to fill the air. All is muffled. On her wrist is a silver cuff with the Capitol seal on it, which had been explained beforehand by the head trainer.

The cuff is designed so Bailey is sent an excruciating volt when in physical contact with any of us, and apparently can sense when she is aiming for a human target.

"We all don't want you causing _anymore_ trouble, Bailey," I say all too innocently as she is guided away by Gerisho, thrashing.

I would have expected the Capitol to indulge in her bloodlust, but to the contrary, they don't seem all too keen on healing any more tributes before the Games. Inwardly, I laugh with a bitter edge. Of course.

Nonchalantly, I drop the bow and sheath of arrows, and listen to the metallic clang as they meet the marble floor. The training area closest to empty is edible insects, so I leap over and hope it isn't filled with obnoxious airheads five times my size.

And it isn't. Sitting so quietly they give off an omnipresent air are the female tributes from Districts Three and Nine. Their names were…Euca and Pup, I think. And luckily, they don't even turn their heads as I join the group.

The rest of the morning is prosperous. I manage to eat lunch at my own table, which is the only thing that's been mildly exciting in the slightest.

But, staring around at all tributes makes me wonder how we can all be so different, come from such different worlds, and be so willing to kill each other, without thinking that we still have a part of us that is all the same.

We all are still young, we're still children really. Had there ever been a time when children, or all of Panem, didn't see each other as obstacles, adversaries even?

I now wish I'd said my share when Griffin was speaking out against the Capitol. Then I'd be with him as well, maybe close to death, but knowing that I stood up to attempt to give a right for children…to be children.

The rest of the day flies by. I pop in and out of the different stations, but absentmindedly more than anything. I know my skills, and I know what I'm here for. Period.

Dinner is painstaking. I chew on my lip and clench my fists as the District Eleven escort, whose name is far beyond my pronunciation, chatters on obliviously about how painful it's been getting sponsors for me, and gives herself a pat on the back for all her 'hard' work. Well I'll be damned, she has to get up and make a few phone calls while the rest of us contemplate how to survive in an arena laced with dangers that may as well be from hell itself.

That night, while I lie awake in a too soft bed that threatens to suffocate me with all its pillows, I become more and more restless. Forcing myself to give ten more minutes to rid the insomnia, I wiggle around into the covers to make myself comfortable.

It doesn't work, as I presumed, so I wrench the duvet and sheets from my body, slip a soft robe across my shivering frame, and wander the halls.

I don't know where I'm going exactly, but I continue to stumble aimlessly in the shadowy corridors. It's certainly more peaceful than my chilly bedroom, and it helps cleanse my brain of thought. Running my fingers along the rough canvases on the walls, my foot catches the fabric of my robe and I crash to the ground, spitting and cursing. But the next event is even more unexpected. I hear shuffling of feet and a hand extends out to my reach. I pull it and look to see who would be up at this time of night. It then hits me with a powerful, erupting impact. Those eyes-

They're Griffin's eyes.

We both stand frozen, just looking, analyzing. Finally, I try to gather up the emotions to say something, anything, but it all comes out as a choking gargle. Tears stream endlessly down my face, and he pulls my frame closer to his, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Margo…" The smile in his voice envelopes me and I can't help but grin as well. Even if he is hundreds and thousands of miles away from our home, I can't help but be lost in my happiness. It's been too long since I've felt like this. My eyes close as he carries me through the halls, and I feel myself fade away.

When he sets me down, I gain consciousness again, eyelids fluttering open. I observe my surroundings, and I'm aware that we're on the roof. I went here last night for a while before dusk.

But now the skyline is glittering with harsh artificial light, which somewhere inside me strikes me as beautiful. Strange, but beautiful. My arms reach out fervently to confirm Griffin is still beside me, and sure enough, he is. My mind swirls with questions, and I finally clear my throat to speak.

"What are they doing to you here?" I croak. It doesn't make sense, really. The Capitol wouldn't keep him here to indulge in their luxury.

His eyes meet mine, and he pulls a piece of hair from my ear before answering, "I don't know, M. They've been acting too kind here, not how they should treat someone who openly speaks out against them. I think they're waiting for something, but I don't know what,"

My heart pounds in my chest. "Griffin…I can't stop thinking about you being…tortured, killed even," I know I shouldn't share those discouraging thoughts, but they slip out urgently.

He gives a chuckle. "Well I die for a good cause, and I get to see the person I love before it happens," he kisses me on the cheek and continues, "Why don't we talk about home? How is it there?"

We talk for ages, it seems. It's nice to hear his voice again, but when his lips brush against mine, or he embraces me, my whole body lurches. I want him, yes, but I can't want him…

I awake to the sun glaring into my eyes, forming a wave of heat over my body. A horrible stench emits from somewhere, and I assume a dumpster must be nearby in the city. With a small grin, I notice that I'm still clutching Griffin's hand. I swivel around to see his body in full.

My scream echoes through the city with a colossal jolt. Right…right…w-here…his head…should be…

Is…a….a stub…

Tears erupt from my eyes and choking wails escape my mouth as I pull the sheet of paper on his body to eyes view. I force myself to believe its red ink, not blood…not blood. I thrash and thrash uncontrollably as I absorb the words.

_This is the price you pay for rebellion, darling._

(Everard Basil D11)

I give Margo a reassuring smile as the elevator zips down to the gymnasium for our second day of training. She turns her back from me as if anticipating that I'll stab her in the back or something. I shake my head nonchalantly and turn to my escort, Pelicaniya.

"It's going to be a great day, I can tell," I beam at her, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Indeed, Everardo!" Pelicaniya pipes while clenching her fingers onto my arm in an attempt to stay steady. It's no surprise she's so tipsy, we all watched her mix spirits at breakfast this morning. But I would have liked if she dropped that last vowel from my name.

With a slight beep the doors slide open, and I give my last wave to Pelicaniya. In response, she vomits on the marble floor, looking up from the mess to flash a smile and give us a thumbs up. Margo rolls her eyes for the tenth time today, and sighs. I chuckle half-heartedly. At least we have some comic relief.

The colossal training room slides into view, and I realise all of the tributes have already arrived. Margo and I scuffle to the middle of the room where everyone is gathering around the head trainer. For a head, you would assume someone large and burly would be chosen, but she's a petite woman with wispy blond hair, her grey eyes burn in an eerie, deadly way. Her gaze shifts from all of us to a set of Peacekeepers at the door, and she gestures with a wave at the door. I hear a pronounced click and Bailey Gizer steps through, brow furrowed.

I then realise the cuff and mask-like contraption the Peacekeeper's are fitting onto her wrist and jaw, and can't help but raise my eyebrow in confusion. Snickers and whispers echo through the area.

"Maybe they can cut off your tongue next, eh Bailey?" Cassidy's smug voice matches the sneer on her face as she examines the stitches on her hand. The Five lunges for Bailey, when the most peculiar thing happens. A spark of electricity travels from the cuffs and lights up her body.

"As you all can see, there will be no issues with Miss Gizer attempting to harm or speak to any of you, although it would be most courteous if you could refrain from any comments, yes Miss Charme?" Cassidy shakes her head and mutters something along the lines of 'bitch' or 'dumbass'. I assume the latter, as Cassidy hasn't quite sunken to our beloved Five's word of mouth yet.

We all finally disperse, and I feel a few knots in my stomach. I hadn't really thought about who I'd be in an alliance with, as I hadn't had any time to work on it yesterday. Without thinking, I stumble over to the mace station. I've never been handy with one, but I'd like to at least try in case it's the only thing I can get my hands on in the Games.

I swing the mace around for a while, listening intently as the trainer explains some useful tactics with the weapon. The other tributes in the station don't seem to be doing great with it either, except for the girl in their alliance from Seven. It's funny, because she's so tiny but her eyes are filled with rage, and the dummy is slowly being mutilated with her skilled hands. I manage to gather their names from the amount of whispers they emit.

The boy from Eight is Hexavire, I saw him excel in a number of other weapons like bow and arrow. Next to him is Rat-Trap, a quiet fifteen who always wears a big goofy grin, and seems very ,very intelligent.

And the small Seven is Sofiel. Her black hair drapes around her face like a curtain, her face hard, but I can't help but wonder if she has a soft side deep down. Either way, she will not be underestimated on my part.

The rest of the day is rewarding. I begin to break the wall between me and Sofiel, Rat-Trap, and Hexavire, who invite me to eat lunch, and we all teach each other different techniques where the other struggles. One in a while they will give me a skeptic glance, and it reminds me that these people, they don't trust lightly.

And I'm reminded of the horrors that are approaching rapidly, so very rapidly.


	15. Sponsor Guide

_**I'm really sorry for the delay, guys. I almost have the next chapter done, but I've had a couple personal things come up, but I promise in the next few days I'll be back on track. So for now, here's a sponsoring guide:**_

**Large review to the story(four sentences or more): 200 points**

**Small review to this story(three sentences or less): 100 points**

**Large review to one of my other stories(four sentences or more): 500 points**

**Small review to one of my other stories(three sentences or less): 200 points**

**Review without sponsoring( large or small): 100 points extra**

**Everyone starts with 125 points, and must work their way up. Now here is a guide to the amount of points it takes for the items:**

_**Food and Water:**_

**Piece of bread, cheese, small chunk of meat: 100 points**

**Potatoes, vegetables, loaf of bread, full piece of meat: 200 points**

**Full meal: 500 points**

**Small canteen of water(lasts one day): 100 points**

**Medium canteen of water(lasts two days): 200 points**

**Large canteen of water(lasts three days): 300 points**

_**Medical Supplies:**_

**Needle and thread: 100 points**

**Small bottle of needed medicine(works, but wears of quickly): 150 points**

**Medium bottle of needed medicine(works for a longer period of time): 200 points**

**Large bottle of needed medicine(permanent) 300 points**

**Cast, sling, crutch: 250 points**

**Antidote, morphling: 200 points**

_**Tools and Weapons:**_

**Small knife, tool hammer, blow darts, arrows, bolts, etc: 200 points**

**Small survival tools(matches, iodine, net, hooks): 100 points**

**Large survival tools(tent, hammock, sleeping bag): 200 points**

**Bows, axes, swords, machete, whips, etc: 700 points**

_**Here it is! Let me know if I forgot about something. The chapter will be up soon, but until then, happy sponsoring!**_


	16. Author's NotePLEASE READ

Hi, guys.

I know it's been ages, nine months to be exact. And I could spend this entire note explaining how awful it was for me to abandon this story, you guys, and your characters. This year has been a little difficult for me in terms of willingness to write, inspiration, and time. But, going through all your lovely reviews, I've realized how much I've missed this story. So, I am here to propose something. I know most of you don't even remember this story, but if you're out there, I would love to hear your two cents on a revival of this story.

Would you guys be up for that?

Of course, I have felt I need to bring in a co-author for this essentially massive story, my friend Carlisle, aka lisles. She will be assisting me in writing the POVs for the characters, and providing moral support(hell knows I need it).

How does that sound?


	17. District 12 Third Training

**Hello, everyone! Lisles and I are so sorry for the long wait, school was pretty hectic for a while. But we promise the wait for the next chapters won't be a tenth as long. So, almost a year later, this is the last character introduction. Woo, time sure flies. Please. Don't hurt me, aha. At the end of the chapter is a list of all the tribute's scores. No scrolling down to the bottom of the page! And without further ado…**

**Please read and review!**

**Stormer Heathridge (D12 , Lisles)**

I tiredly glance around the room at my opponents. Some are laughing, some are clearly nervous, and then a few, such as Euca and myself, just don't care. As easy as that. We don't care.

Even if I go through that huge marble door, stand before those freaks everyone calls Gamemakers, and manage to land myself a score of twelve, it wouldn't change my chances of winning in the slightest. So why care?

Sure, some people may sponsor me; but it's not as if Rye is going to send me anything useful. He hasn't done anything to help me so far, so I doubt he'll start when I get in the arena.

And it's not going to get me an alliance. No one will come up to me and ask me to join them in the arena. They might have, had I not made it so clear that I despised them all.

So obviously I don't care for an alliance. It's not like I want to be alone, I don't. In fact, I hate being alone. In my mind, time alone meant time to think.

Ever since my mom acquired that disease, trying not to think about how my much life was like living hell was my number one priority. I constantly had to distract myself.

So why don't I want an alliance? I hated and distrusted all of them. Plain and simple. And I don't hate them because the Capitol wants me to. I don't agree with all this competitive, superficial crap.

My silent rant is rudely interrupted by a sudden tingling sensation in my arms and legs. I realise that my body is vibrating and, shocked, I look around the room and see in everyone else's eyes the same terror that I'm sure is in mine. Their bodies are vibrating, too.

Then I notice that it's not just our bodies, but the walls and floor, as well. Then the noise comes. A deep, low rumbling hits my ears and at once the same, terrifying realisation comes to everyone in the room.

"Earthquake!" I hear a voice screech over the sound, and instantly we're all under our tables.

I can see several of the younger tributes desperately clutching whomever is lucky enough to be sitting next to them. They look so scared and confused. For a split second I wish I could help them.

Then I remember why they're here, why I'm here, and where we're going and any sympathetic thoughts vanish.

The rest happens in a flash. Almost dreamlike.

It's like a chain reaction: A vase falls from a table, cause it to smash. Water splashes, soaking any tributes in its path. A fake-looking, neon pink flower lands delicately in front of Gerisho. The tribute's eyes grow wide and instantly he begins to sneeze violently.

This sequence of events pushes a terrified Pup over the edge. In the hectic commotion, she apparently forgets that she's squatting beneath a table, because she then attempts to stand and make a run for it; but unfortunately, the solid wood table above her brutally knocks her both back to reality, and unconscious.

Her limp, tiny body rolls across the cold marble floor and away from the safety of the table.

After that something strange happens. We all (Well, except for Pup, whose unconscious mind is probably wishing one of us would snap the hell out of it and help her.) stare at each other. And for about ten seconds the Games are forgotten. The rumble of the earthquake becomes background noise. We are all equals. All children who have just been forced in the same situation.

We're all clearly terrified, no matter how much we don't want it showing.

Quickly, though, all our attention moves to Pup, who is now slightly bleeding from the top of her head.

_Where are all the Capitol people? The Gamemakers, the avoxes, the escorts, the mentors, anyone?_

I stare at Pup's frail, tiny body and suddenly it's not Pup lying there. It's Avery.

Images flash through my mind-Avery and Button picking flowers. Skipping to school. Crying when my name was called. Promising they'd take care of our sick mother.

Something stirs inside of me, and within moments I'm kneeling beside Pup. I take off my shirt and press it against her head.

For what seems like hours I sit there, in the center of the room, cradling her. I know that all eyes are trained on me, but I try to ignore them as I do my best to protect Pup.

Emotions run through me faster than I can process them. Worry, guilt, fear, confusion.

The confusion elevates when I hear sounds of applause and relief.

I open my eyes and allow myself a shaky smile when I notice that the earthquake has ceased.

Almost immediately a team of men and women in long, white coats rush in room through a door I didn't know existed. They expertly pull Pup out of my arms and place her on a stretcher.

After that we all stumble wearily out from under our tables and sit.

Almost simultaneously the room explodes in excited, nervous, and tired whispering. The Career pack seems to remember that they're better than the rest of us and go back to bickering among themselves.

No one else seems to mind very much, they're all too engrossed in their own conversations.

And who am I left with?

My thoughts.

Great. 'Cause we all know how much I _love _those.

Just then a loud voice from a speaker saves me from spending time alone with my thoughts.

"Do not be alarmed," it says in a deep tone. "What you just experienced for ninety seconds was an earthquake. We are having a few minor difficulties; but your sessions will commence as usual momentarily."

This announcement only ignited more chatter. "I told you so's and "I knew it's flew frantically.

Eventually it quietly to a low whisper and then silence when Gerisho decided to stand on his table.

"I believe," he announced. "That what we all just went through," he paused for effect. "Was _not _an earthquake!"

Shocked murmuring quickly spread. Some people rolled their eyes.

"I'm serious!" he shouted. "Where I'm from, District Nine, we have earthquakes every now and again, and _that _was_ not_ an earthquake!"

"Why not?" Hexavire asked inquisitively.

"I don't know..." he replied. "It just wasn't. I've experienced my fair share of earthquakes, have you?"

Hexavire shook his head.

"Exactly." He smiled. "And you know what? Just for you, Hexavire, I'm going to prove it."

He swooped down and grabbed a vase off of the table, and then he jumped to the floor.

"Quiet! Everyone!" Gerisho demanded as he strut toward the door.

When he reached the door he, ever so carefully, placed the vase against the marble, and the other against his ear.

"Oh, man. What are youdoing _now_?" Hexavire sighed.

"Shut up!" scolded Bailey.

"I'm going to eavesdrop on the Gamemakers. _They'll_ know what that 'earthquake,'" He put air quotes around "earthquake." "Really was."

Everyone was silent as he patiently stood with his ear to the vase.

I swear, I had my second heart-attack that day when a voice interrupted our silent waiting.

"Alaia Hemlock."

Alaia was up and gone as fast as she was summoned, Gerisho gave up and sat back down, and in minutes everyone was back to their normal chatter. It only broke for about half a minute when Pup re-entered the room. She was holding some blue gel thing against her head.

After that, time flew by. I tried to savour every minute, knowing that I didn't have many left.

But despite my efforts, it wasn't long before I heard it:

"Stormer Heathridge."

And I was slowly moving toward the door.

**Kira Pawson (D12, Adrenaline Write)**

A smile stretches across my face as I tap my foot against the floor restlessly. Cancel each other out, right?

Last. I'm last. They'll be drunk, inattentive, and just as restless as me. I still continue to grin as if nothing's wrong, regardless.

I'm never going to be a Career this way. Stupid, careless, bastards.

_Stop it, _I think. _You're not helping yourself at all!_

My face hurts.

I crane my neck towards the door, hoping to hear any signs that Hexavire has finished. Giving up, I leap from my seat and tiptoe over to the door, pressing my ear against the marble.

Naturally, there's a clang of swords, although faint.

"What are you doing in there, playing cards?" I shout and regret my words immediately. But still, no noise.

Annoyed, I slump back into the chair in defeat. Stormer shoots me a stony look, and goes back to staring at the ceiling.

Fine, then. Be that way.

The others chuckle under their breath, and I decide it's too painstaking just sitting here.

"Why the long face, Margo?" I ask, flashing a perky smile.

Eleven stares up from her lap, eyes puffy, and her fists clenched.

"Nothing," she replies through her teeth, and I wag my finger.

"You're never going to feel better if you don't talk about it!" I pipe, with the persistence of an escort.

"I'm. Not. Going. To. Talk. About. It," she mumbles, her puffy eyes now filled with defiance.

Springing from my chair, I walk over to Eleven, kneel down, and pat her head in mock-comfort.

"It'll be all right, there's nothing to worry about-"

I feel the wind knock out of me as Margo's fist connects with my chest. She's seething with rage, and fresh tears are streaming down her face.

I went too far, and guilt begins to overcome me. Why do I have to be such a bitch?

_It's because you're scared. You're terrified, you're going to die out there, you're hiding behind a mask-_

I grin and get off the ground, wiping the dust off my shirt.

"You should learn to control your temper, dear. I was just trying to help," I say matter-of-factly, giggling.

_It's enough after that weird explosion to be causing any more problems, _I think.

The explosion. Earthquake. What ever you wanted to call it, blew everyone's mind, I could tell. Millions of questions swirled in my head as I recounted the incident. How in hell could that possibly happen? Was it even an earthquake? Or a stunt to up the drama for this year's Games?

Then I remember.

Mace was in there at the time. He hasn't come out from those doors since it happened.

I can feel an idea sprouting in my mind, so impossible and far-fetched that I start to believe it.

Did Mace have something to do with it? He was always so stoic, so calculating. Something about him didn't seem right.

I push the thoughts from my mind, hoping I can come to a conclusion later.

It comes to my realization that Gerisho is now in the training session, both the Eights and Pup gone. Time flies when you're having fun.

So much fun, in fact, I forgot I could be signing my own death warrant when I walk through those doors.

_You're a real pessimist, aren't you?_

I'll show them some close-combat with knives for awhile, maybe some fire making, poison darts-

_And you'll get a four. Those lushes are looking for some entertainment!_

I emit a sigh, and watch as Gerisho exit's the room smugly, followed by Angelica entering.

I can feel sweat starting to trickle down my forehead, and I wipe it off haphazardly. When Angelica leaves, a sour expression on her face, Sile gives me a reassuring smile, walking into the gym. Creep.

My limbs relax, but only slightly. I can do this. I can.

I rise from my chair when the door creaks open, and take a deep breath. Just one more smile.

The room looks the same as it was before, but the emptiness is eerie and nerve-wracking. My feet clack against the ground, creating a symphony of echoes. I take a look above me to survey the state of the Gamemakers.

They're drunk. Not that I didn't expect it, but it's still irritating. Some are still coherent enough to watch in interest, though, and my confidence surges a little.

I start with the close-combat knives as I had planned, and they fit comfortably in my hands. It feels right. Familiar.

I know I can use something familiar right now.

As sure as hell, the dummy is decomposing under my knives. I start to forget I'm in the Capitol, that my life is on the line. All I can feel is the steady rhythm of the blades, and the pumping of my heart.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the gym, and out of the waiting room. The corridor feels less intimidating now that I've conquered the training room.

I spot Rye, my mentor, and try to stifle the laughter bubbling up my throat.

"Gold really isn't your colour, but I'm sure the men in the Capitol just _adore_ you in it," I snicker, and he scowls.

"Nice to see you too,"

"Pretty boy," I mutter under my breath, "Okay, I'm done!"

"It won't be my fault when you're starving to death in the arena," he responds, his face deadpan.

I shake my head, and step into the elevator. I'm almost glad our floor is at the very top, the elevator provides an amazing view of this horrible city.

The world is Technicolor. Saturated, nauseating, but still beautiful. A few of the alien people stop to glance at me from the ground and their bodies an incoherent flash as they jump up and down.

A sharp ding echoes in my ears, and I walk out of the elevator, into the posh loft I've been living in for the past few days. My fingers flit over everything in wonder. It still amazes me, every bit. The whole place feels impossible, like a dream. If I don't touch it, it'll just dissolve away.

I'm supposed to feel that way, I know it. I'm supposed to be overwhelmed with inferiority. And I am. But part of me has millions of questions just waiting to bubble to the surface. How? How do we live in shacks, and they vast buildings in the sky? How can my whole month of hunting and gathering be a touch of a button for them?

I shake the thoughts away. They're not important right now.

I stride into my room, already a mess of airy blue and silver. I feel defenceless here, out in the open, no matter how luxurious the place is. I sink into the fluffy, creased comforter and stare at the ceiling, wishing I could still feel coal dust between my toes.

And now, there's no use smiling. I can feel the tears, hot and wet, slide down my cheeks.

I can't stand it. Nothing is the same anymore-crying! I'm crying, goddammit- it doesn't feel right at all. I'm in the clouds rather than the ground-

The door flies open with a start, and Rye makes his way into the room. I immediately freeze, and stare down into the blankets.

"You're weak and nervous. I know it, you know it,"

I look at him in utter shock; unable to comprehend his words, or reply.

"And how does it feel to be useless? To know you're going to die the first day?"

Anger surges through my veins, and my head spins. All I can feel are my fingernails against his cheeks, drawing blood with each scrape.

He doesn't scream, he doesn't fight back. He doesn't even move. And when I pull myself away, he's smiling. A real, beautiful smile. But only for a second. And he's gone, just like that.

He'd meant for that to happen. All of it.

I wipe the tears from my eyes, and find myself smiling as well.

We're all seated around the television, and I know it isn't the cold leather that's making me shake. This is it. No matter what score I get, what's done is done.

I gaze along the screen, hoping for any news on Mace's disappearance, or the earthquake. Nothing.

There's a vast flash of faces. Innocent, cold, wistful. And then, there's mine. I'm beneath my mask. My sparkling smile. My breath hitches as the number appears on the screen.

Nine.

And now, the smile is anything but fake.

**Tribute Training Scores**

**Sage Evans- 8**

**Faul Verlong- 6**

**Cassidy Charme- 9**

**Berrin Mercer- 10**

**Euca Trinmon- 4**

**Mace Ioan-Daire- ?**

**Alaia Hemlock- 8**

**Rat-Trap Moores- 7**

**Bailey Gizer- 11**

**Kael Storlie- 3**

**Aver Genie- 6**

**Carter Rollings- 5**

**Sofiel Adrayscaus- 11**

**Slate Blackwood- 8**

**Zina Reedmore- 5**

**Hexavire Lucas- 9**

**Pup Tanner- 7**

**Gerisho Pan- 10**

**Angelica Hust- 5**

**Sile Grenwich- 5**

**Margo Grey- 3**

**Everard Basil- 9**

**Kira Pawson- 9**

**Stormer Hearthridge- 8**

**Okay, the character intros are finally done! I'm sure you're all wondering what the earthquake, and Mace's connection to it, means. It'll all be explained in due time, I promise. (: **


End file.
